Regret & Redemption
by theofoz
Summary: Ten years have passed since Darcy's disastrous marriage proposal to Elizabeth Bennet. Despite the regrets they both came to feel, they moved on with their lives. Now Elizabeth Fitzwilliam is returning to England a widow, and there may be a chance of rekindling a lost love.
1. Chapter 1

Elizabeth watched as the shore neared the ship, sliding a strand of curls out of her eyes. Although her heart leapt to see the coast of England once again, she keenly felt her solitude. This would be no joyous homecoming for the holidays, as was her habit in recent years. Although she did rejoice that her son, Thomas, accompanied her and now slept peacefully in the cabin belowdecks, she mourned the loss of his father bitterly.

Her husband, Brigadier General Richard Fitzwilliam, married her after finding his fortune in India in service to General Arthur Wellesley. He had subsequently followed Lord Wellesley in several campaigns, most recently against the French in the Battle of Salamanca. And while Elizabeth did not at first enjoy the life of an officer's wife, she grew to appreciate it more when she was allowed to travel with her husband, as she had been to Portugal.

She had not seen Richard for weeks when the news reached her that he had been wounded, and she rushed from Lisbon to find him. Elizabeth was later to hear many accounts of Richard's honor and valor as his dragoons outflanked and demolished a superior force, but his courage had cost him his life. He succumbed to his injuries in a field hospital, dying in Elizabeth's arms soon after she arrived. If not for little Thomas, she might have felt her life was over, as well.

She looked up. The white cliffs that loomed ahead, usually so welcoming, looked barren to her. What attraction could England hold for her now, without Richard's companionship? Indeed, she had tarried in Lisbon for more than a month after her return from the Spanish front; she knew it was not rational, but felt as though the fact of his death would only be incontrovertible once she went home alone.

She and Thomas would not entirely lack for material resources, at least. Thomas would inherit his father's property – Chawton House, the charming, small country estate that she had not seen in some years, and the townhouse in London. There would be sufficient funds to maintain those residences for now, but not enough to see Thomas to adulthood. Elizabeth sighed. She supposed she would have to sell the house in London, and perhaps she should let Chawton House for a time, accepting her sister's offer to stay with the Bingley family at Netherfield. It would do Thomas some good to be with his four cousins, and truthfully, it would do her some good, as well.

She sighed again, returning to her cabin to ready herself to disembark.

Elizabeth held Thomas's small hand in hers as they descended the gangplank, too busy minding her footing to notice the coach. When her toes finally touched solid ground, she was startled to look up and see a familiar face, if one she had not seen for some time. She felt her heart jump unaccountably in her chest, as it always did in his presence.

"Cousin," she said, holding her free hand out. "It was good of you to come, but you needn't have made the journey all the way to Dover."

He took her hand in both of his and touched it briefly to his lips.

"Of course I came," he said simply. "Richard would never have forgiven me if I did not care for you in your time of need." Elizabeth felt her heart jump again, and quickly pulled away from his hands.

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she said, with a tired smile. "See, Thomas, your kind Uncle Darcy has come to take us home."


	2. Chapter 2

The little boy looked up shyly at his imposing relation, and Darcy promptly kneeled on the ground so that his face would be level with the child's. "Thomas," he said gently, far less imposing as he smiled delightedly at the boy, "you were just a baby the last time I saw you, and now you've grown into a fine young man." The toddler sucked on his fingers, a small pleased smile on his face as he leaned his head against his mother's skirts. Darcy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, carved wooden ship. "You wouldn't remember my daughters, Esther and Phebe, but they sent you this." The boy's eyes opened comically wide, and he looked up to his mother for permission. She nodded at him, and he took the toy happily in his hands, holding it tightly to his chest.

"Thank you," he trilled.

Darcy smiled again, patting the boy on the head as he rose to his feet. He was surprised to see that Elizabeth had tears running down her face. "Thank you for your kindness to my son," she choked out.

"Of course," he responded uncomfortably, holding out his arm to her. "You must be exhausted, and it is hot out here in the sun. Come, let us be on our way and you can sleep in the coach. I will keep Thomas company if need be." Elizabeth took his arm and leaned on him a bit – she really was exhausted – and settled into the comfortable seat gratefully.

As they set off, Elizabeth asked after Georgiana Darcy, with whom she kept up a regular correspondence. Darcy assured her that his sister was well, and still at Pemberley. "Such a shame that she has not married," Elizabeth thought to herself. "We must find her a worthy match, for she is deserving of much happiness of her own." Aloud she asked after Phebe and Esther. "They must delight in having their Aunt's company," Elizabeth remarked fondly. "Esther must be six now, is she not? And Phebe three?"

Darcy nodded. "Phebe keeps poor Georgiana busy," he chuckled. "She is certainly a willful child."

"She takes after her father, then?" Elizabeth replied archly. Darcy was visibly relieved to hear Elizabeth sounding more like herself.

"Indeed, she does," he allowed. "Esther is far more like her mother, reserved and already quite devout." A shadow passed over his eyes, and Elizabeth watched him closely.

"I know I wrote to you when they passed, Fitzwilliam," she said softly, "but I am so sorry about poor Catherine and little Mary."

"Thank you," he said distantly, not looking at her.

The third child of Fitzwilliam and Catherine Darcy, Mary Sarah, fell ill when she was only six months old and died shortly after. Her grief-stricken mother, never fully recovered from childbirth, soon followed her child to the grave. They had been gone nearly two years now.

On an impulse, Elizabeth leaned forward and gently placed her hand on Darcy's, meaning to comfort him. He startled, however, and pulled his hand away abruptly.

"I beg your pardon," she said hastily, flushing bright red. It was always so, between them. They had become friendly after Charles Bingley had married her sister, Jane, calling a truce and agreeing to forget the Hunsford Incident, as they laughingly called it. Richard had begun courting her soon after, though they were not able to marry until several years later, when he returned from his service in India a wealthy man. So she and Darcy were not only friends now, but family. Nonetheless, a certain reserve and awkwardness never fully disappeared when they were alone together, and Elizabeth was always careful not to let herself think about the reasons for that circumstance.

She asked him quickly about what he was reading, and he responded with enthusiasm and relief. They talked about literature and then politics for several hours, for Darcy had recently become a Member of Parliament. Thomas played with his boat, singing quietly to himself and eventually falling back to sleep.

Not long after the child lay his head down in her lap, Elizabeth herself could no longer suppress an indelicate yawn. "I still bore you, I see," Darcy said with amusement. "I apologize, Cousin," she said, laughing. "Your conversation is as stimulating as ever, but I fear that I am quite tired. It has been a trying journey, to say the least." She looked at him warmly, but with haunted eyes, "until, of course, we came upon your coach."

"Sleep, Elizabeth," he said kindly. "We still have many hours to Netherfield, where they will be very excited to see you. You will need the rest for that brood, believe me." Elizabeth laughed in agreement, and closed her eyes, leaning back against the cushions.

Darcy watched her as she slept, his undiminished love for his cousin's wife clear on his countenance, now that there was no one to see. Elizabeth had grown from a pretty girl into a handsome woman, her figure somewhat fuller and her face somewhat thinner. Her arms, bosom, and face were tanned from her habit of long walks in the Iberian sun without a bonnet to keep her fashionably pale. The small lines etched at the corners of her eyes and mouth bore evidence to the fact that she retained a mirthful disposition, despite her current distress.

"Rest easy," he whispered as she slept. "I will take care of you, if you will allow me the pleasure."


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN: First, thank you so much for the reviews! I'm writing this because I love the book and the characters and because I want to write, but it makes it all SO much better when there are people who actually want to read what I'm writing. And such readers! You know your stuff - thanks for keeping me on my toes. This is really fun.**_

_**This is set 10 years after the original, which means Lizzy is 30, Georgiana is 26, Darcy is 38, and Jane is presumably 32. P&P doesn't specify the year that it takes place, but I decided 1802. The Battle of Salamanca took place in 1812. Lizzy only has one child for a number of reasons, one of which will be in the plot. But she and Richard couldn't marry right away because he didn't have the money. Back in those days, though, officers got rich when they went on campaign, so that's how I imagine he made his fortune - I figured it took him about 3 years. A long engagement, but she was willing to wait for him. He was also gone on several campaigns, so that's another reason there's only one child. Darcy does not have an heir - he only has daughters - so that is, indeed, a problem. And though Austen didn't show people getting truly sick and dying all that often, mortality rates, especially for children, were pretty high, so I figured it would be realistic. **_

_**I'm trying more or less to write in the style of the time and with historical accuracy, but it will be a 21st century version of 19th century English! And I will be introducing a new, major character who is a real historical figure, something it surely wasn't safe for Austen herself to do at the time. Apologies up front that I am going to play with the historical character's timeline, so I'm going to take some liberties with the past :)**_

_**And I won't always get new material out this fast, but I do have a complete story arc in mind...**_

The child awoke first, rubbing his eyes with his chubby fists. He looked around the coach, remembering where he was. As awareness dawned, the boy quickly looked about him on the seat, panic setting in.

"Thomas," Darcy said softly, knowing what the child was looking for, "it is there." He pointed to where the boat had fallen on the floor. The child smiled and snatched it up.

"Come sit here beside me," Darcy said, "and we will tell a story about your boat and all the oceans she has traveled – just as you have traveled."

Thomas looked at his uncle timidly and stayed in his seat, for he had spent much of his young life alone with his mother and nurse and was unaccustomed to strangers.

"Has it really gone far, Uncle?' he asked.

"Indeed," Darcy said, nodding emphatically. "She just returned from far off India, where she took on a cargo of silks and spices. But the Captain nearly lost his life to a tiger when they first arrived at the port…" The boy promptly moved to the seat next to him, eyes sparkling.

"A tiger, Uncle Darcy?" he exclaimed. "Truly?"

"Truly," Darcy assured him. The child looked very like his father, sandy-haired and tall for his age, but his eyes seemed almost lifted off his mother's face. They were large, dark, and expressive, framed by long lashes and shapely brows. He was a comely child whose aspect promised he would become a handsome man.

Some time later, Elizabeth became restless in her sleep. Darcy watched her with concern, though the child was quick to tug on his sleeve if he became too distracted from his narrative about the Sultan of Mysore. So they were both startled when Elizabeth cried out, "No! No! Richard! Richard!"

Darcy glanced at the child, who was clearly frightened. "It is fine, Thomas," he said hurriedly, "It is only a dream." Thomas nodded gravely, noting, "Mother dreams all night." Darcy patted the child absently as he watched Elizabeth, who was thrashing her head about on the seat.

"Richard!" She cried again.

Darcy moved to the cushions next to her. "Elizabeth," he said, leaning towards her. "Elizabeth, wake up now. You are having a nightmare." She continued to gasp, and tears were falling from the corners of her eyes.

"Lizzy," he said, somewhat louder. "Wake up, dear one. You are safe now." She opened her eyes suddenly, and covered her face with her hands, shuddering. She looked at Darcy through shaking fingers.

"I am so sorry," she choked. "Oh Fitzwilliam," she whispered brokenly, "it was so awful. It haunts me." She saw her white-faced child and visibly struggled to gain control over her emotions. Darcy struggled as well, stroking her hand gently, but finally could restrain himself no further and took her in his arms.

"Tell me, cousin," he said carefully. "Perhaps it will help you."

Elizabeth took a deep breath, sitting up straight and dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief from her sleeve. Darcy let his arms fall from her sharply, as though he had touched flame, though she did not seem fully aware that he had embraced her.

"I cannot," she said inclining her head in the direction of the child. "It is not something he needs to hear."

"Later, then," he agreed soothingly. She nodded.

"Come, Thomas," Elizabeth held her arms out to him. "I am well. Come and kiss me."

Darcy moved back to the seat across the coach and watched her hold her child, who proceeded to tell her with much excitement about the Sultan and the tiger. "And how came you by this tale?" Elizabeth asked, smiling at him.

"Uncle told me! He told me about my ship!" the boy said proudly.

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose up as she looked at Darcy. She knew him to be an educated and well-read man, with a generosity of spirit, but she had always thought of him as rather too reserved to tell such a story, let alone to a three year old.

"I have had much practice of late," he said, correctly reading her expression. "There are many nights when Phebe refuses to sleep unless I tell her some new tale, and each must be more daring than the last."

Soon, the carriage came to a stop. "We shall rest here for the night," Darcy said. "It is a pleasant inn, and the food is good. We can be away early in the morning and arrive at Netherfield in the afternoon, if that is agreeable?"

Elizabeth nodded, dabbing at her eyes again with the cloth. "Very agreeable, thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN: Thanks for the feedback - I made some edits to the last chapter. This one is even sadder - sorry about that! I promise the whole thing one be one long dirge...**_

The day dawned clear and warm, and Darcy had the coach ready by first light. Elizabeth, eyes shadowed with fatigue, emerged with her son not long after, and they were soon away.

The ride to Netherfield passed quickly, with stories, pleasant conversation, companionable silence, and sleep. Even Darcy allowed himself to doze, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to examine him closely. It was damnable, she thought, that men became handsomer as they aged, whereas women merely aged. For Darcy, always a striking figure, had only become more so. The gray hair at his temples made him look more distinguished and the creases in his face more thoughtful. His physique was still lean and athletic, whereas many men of his age and status showed the signs of having lived a life of comfort.

In some manner, she reflected, his had not been a comfortable life. He never lacked for anything material, of course, and was denied nothing. Almost nothing, she corrected herself wryly. But from a young age, Darcy had lived with a heavy burden of high expectations, both his own and those of others. Awake, it made him aloof and reserved, but asleep, he looked untroubled.

Of course, thought Elizabeth, the strain of losing his wife and child surely weighed on him, as well, even if it did not show as he slept. Then Richard's last words came to her, unbidden, and she blushed to think of them. She was not ready to face what he had told her, but the memories flooded her senses, nonetheless.

His wound itself had not been fatal. He had taken a musket shot to the leg and artillery shrapnel in the abdomen, which had perforated his viscera.  
By the time Elizabeth reached him, the surgeons had successfully treated the leg, but there was nothing to be done about the abdominal wound. It had become gangrenous. A slower, more agonizing death would be difficult to imagine, and even worse, Richard was awake and aware much of the time.

He only survived another day after she arrived. Indeed, he said she was his angel of mercy, come to help him find his release from this death-in-life.

The afternoon he died, he called to her and took her hand. "Lizzy," he said faintly, "it won't be long now." She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. "There are some things I must tell you." He closed his eyes for a few minutes, his breath shallow and the pulse in his wrist fluttering like a trapped bird against her fingers.

"I fear I have not provided well enough for you, Thomas, and our unborn child." Elizabeth started to speak, to reassure him that all would be well, but he squeezed her hand. "Hush, Lizzy. You must listen now, for I am nearly out of strength." He kept his eyed closed as he continued to speak. "There is only one man I trust to care for you, and that is my cousin, Darcy."

Richard opened his eyes and looked into hers. "Ah, Lizzy, how I have loved you, and I know you have loved me. You have given me so much  
joy."

"But he loves you, too, and with a passion even I cannot fathom. I have always known it to be so. And I have seen it in your face that you feel it, too." Elizabeth gaped at him, stricken that her beloved husband would accuse her of such betrayal on his deathbed.

Richard actually chuckled then, the chuckle turning into a painful, wracking cough. "Ah," he sighed. "What a low end is this, that I cannot even laugh? No, Lizzy, pardon me, but your expression spoke so clearly. You misunderstand me. You have been true to me, my dearest; I have no doubts on that score. But the heart wants what it wants, and yours wants him. Promise me that you will go to him straight away, Lizzy." She was weeping openly then, saying his name in desperation. He sat up and held her hands tightly, with the last of his strength. "Promise me, Lizzy! You must allow me to die in peace!" He fell back on the pillows. "Promise me you will go to him," he whispered.

"I promise, Richard," she had said. He had smiled at her, and then closed his eyes in exhaustion. He never opened them again, succumbing within the hour.

Elizabeth started when she saw that Darcy was now awake, and aware that she was staring at him intently. She met his eyes without looking away; she was no longer a maiden, to blush and stammer in his presence. She had a promise to keep and a family to protect.

Nonetheless, she soon looked away. Time, she thought. I need time. Despite the truth of what Richard said, and she acknowledged to herself for the first time that it was so and that Darcy had captured her heart long ago, she was not yet ready to forget Richard.

Besides she thought, biting her lip, even if Richard was right about the depth of Darcy's feelings, he may not want me when he learns I am already with child. Or he will marry me out of some sense of duty to Richard, and that would be worse.

She sighed inwardly and resolved to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

As the carriage turned into the drive at Netherfield, Elizabeth inquired of Darcy whether he had business back at Pemberley, or if he would stay at Netherfield.

"I intend to stay at Netherfield for a few days," he said. "But I hope you may come and visit us at Pemberley soon," he paused, and then added pointedly, "Cousin."

"Indeed," Elizabeth agreed smoothly. "It has been more than a year since I saw dear Georgiana, and I have not seen Phebe since she was an infant. It is far too long."

He said nothing, but she noted two spots of color rising in his cheeks. Elizabeth thought that giving herself time would have its own agonies. She found herself wishing that she could leaf directly through the pages of this particular chapter of her life and have the circumstances resolved, one way or another. But there was no help for it; she would have to live through this particular dance, one uncomfortable step at a time.

As they approached the main entry, she could see Jane and Charles emerging from the house to meet them. Elizabeth already felt more at ease, just seeing her sister's face. The children were not in evidence, but she saw Darcy's broad smile and followed his gaze. Four small faces were pressed to the second floor window.

"Look there, Thomas," she pointed. "Your cousins are looking for you." The boy eagerly stared out the window. He had seen his cousins at Longbourn last Christmas, but memories are brief at age three, and they had become somewhat mythical creatures to him in the interim.

"Oh, Mother!" he exclaimed, "there are so many!"

"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth smiled.

"They are quite the thundering herd," Darcy agreed.

He stepped out of the carriage quickly, turning to offer Elizabeth his hand. As her fingers touched his palm, she felt a current of excitement travel up her arm. She had to steel herself to keep from snatching her hand back, not wishing to suggest to him that she found his touch offensive. Sighing inwardly, she allowed her hand to remain in his a moment longer than was necessary, but she did not meet his eyes. Darcy released her and turned to help Thomas so Elizabeth could greet her sister.

Jane threw out her arms wide. "Oh, Lizzy," she cried, "I am so very sorry! Poor Richard!" Elizabeth allowed herself to be comforted, nodding gratefully to Charles as he kissed her cheek.

Jane led her inside toward the sitting room, but before they could enter, a great commotion caught their attention. The four young Bingleys were clattering down the main staircase. Charles, who was the oldest at age 9, shouted "Mother, mother! We waited patiently upstairs as you said! May we come down now?" Before Jane could answer, all four children swept in, exclaiming over Thomas.

Darcy, who was holding Thomas in his arms, put the child down and gave him a gentle push toward the Bingley brothers. The child looked at his mother, who smiled and nodded. "Go and play, my love," she said, which was all the Bingleys needed. They carried Thomas into their scrum and ran off in the direction of the nursery, chattering loudly.

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she said feelingly. He inclined his head but could not conceal his look of gratification at the warmth of her response.

"My apologies," Charles laughed. "We were attempting to spare you from being overwhelmed, but to no avail. At times, we seem to be but tenants in our own home and they the landlords."

"It is fine, Charles," Elizabeth responded. "It is precisely what Thomas needs. He is too young to understand what has happened, and I fear I am not able to provide him the companionship he needs right now. Moreover, he has had little opportunity to spend time with boys his own age."

"Come, rest yourself." Jane said gently, leading Elizabeth to a comfortable settee. "I hope your journey was uneventful.'

"Yes, in no small measure owing to Fitzwilliam, who met us at the ship."

"How kind of you, Darcy," Charles said, rather too quickly.

An uncomfortable silence opened up.

"I am so glad you are here now, Lizzy," Jane said softly. "You must stay a goodly time. I have missed you so much these past few years – it has not been enough, just seeing you at holidays. I am sorry for the circumstances that have brought you here, but glad that we will have time together."

There was another awkward pause. No one wanted to press Elizabeth for details of what had happened, and no one was sure what other subject to talk of, without seeming frivolous.

"Your father came to Pemberley this spring," Darcy said, mercifully breaking the silence. "I invited him to spend some time to peruse the library. It was a most pleasant visit."

"He told me he was escaping mother," Jane commented dryly.

"And how is she?" Elizabeth inquired.

Jane sighed. "Poorly, I am afraid. She rarely leaves her bed of late, let alone the house." Elizabeth recalled that Jane's letters had hinted that Mrs. Bennet was not well.

"What seems to be ailing her?"

Jane shrugged delicately. "It is difficult to say. She appears to be short of breath and complains of pains in her stomach, though her appetite is undiminished. Certainly, her will remains strong."

"By that I assume you mean she still complains relentlessly," Elizabeth noted.

"Indeed," Jane sighed again. "Mary may well be a candidate for sainthood before long, though it is safe to say mother does not express her appreciation for Mary's ministrations quite so clearly."

Jane told Elizabeth of her other sisters. Kitty had married a clergyman nearly two years ago, who had a good-sized parsonage in Kent. Elizabeth had not seen her since the wedding, but Jane reported she was happily ensconced with her baby daughter, Lydia, now six months old.

"And how is the baby's namesake?" Elizabeth inquired.

Jane raised her eyebrows. "It is difficult to say, really. She does not write often, and we do not see her. I believe she is pregnant again, according to mother." That would be the seventh child for Mrs. Wickham. "They are still at Bath, I believe," Jane noted, "and Mr. Wickham has his commission as a Lieutenant Colonel."

Elizabeth eyed Darcy suspiciously, for she knew from her time as an officer's wife that a man such a George Wickham would be required to pay a considerable sum to buy his commission, and she was sure Wickham would have lacked the requisite funds. Darcy refused to meet her eye.

"I am curious, cousin," Elizabeth said to Darcy, "what did my father read while he stayed with you?"

"He was wide-ranging in his taste," Darcy commented with a slight smile. "But we spent some time discussing philosophy. Or rather, I should say, debating it. It is not hard to see where you learned your penchant for argumentation."

They were able to carry on a conversation thus into the evening, Charles pouring sherry for them all. Through dinner as well, they avoided discussing Elizabeth's loss, but Charles finally asked her in the parlor after dinner how she wanted to handle the estate.

"I think I may decide to sell the townhouse," Elizabeth told him, "and let Chawton for a time while I stay with you."

"That seems sensible," Charles agreed. "Darcy and I can certainly help you manage the estate, if you so desire. Though I daresay your business sense is better than my own, based on my observation. Indeed, Richard seemed to leave decisions about the household to you."

Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Soon after, the nurse brought the boys in to say goodnight. They covered their parents with kisses, and Darcy's namesake, William, who was 5, ran to him and kissed him on the cheek. Elizabeth picked Thomas up to carry him to bed. "Will you stay in the nursery with your cousins tonight?' Elizabeth asked him. "Or would you like to stay with me?"

"I will stay with my cousins," Thomas told her. "You dream very loud, mother," he said sweetly, nestling his head against her neck. Not meeting her sister's eyes, Elizabeth said she would help Thomas settle in and then go to bed, herself. She kissed her sister on the cheek and bade the men goodnight, thanking Darcy once again for his assistance.

After Elizabeth had gone to sleep and Jane excused herself, as well, Darcy and Charles Bingley stayed up late into the night, drinking whiskey.

"So, Darcy, do not think for a moment that I believe your trip to Dover had anything to do with kindness."

Darcy merely smiled at his friend. "You know me too well," he murmured noncommittally.

"Will you be staying with us long?" Charles goaded him.

"I do not plan to leave her side," Darcy said quietly. "I made arrangements as soon as I heard the sad news so that I might attend her. My business is in good order and the Lords are not in session. Georgiana will watch over the girls."

"You will have to give her time," Charles warned him, in earnest now.

Darcy nodded. "However long it takes," he replied. "I lost her once through my own impatience and arrogance, and it has long been the greatest regret of my life. I will not make such a mistake again."

Charles Bingley laughed. "No doubt you will find an entirely new mistake to make." Bingley smiled broadly and shrugged his shoulders to indicate he was jesting, once he saw his friend's sour look. "Billiards?"


	6. Chapter 6

_**AN: Thanks so much for the corrections on the Navy - admittedly more familiar with Army traditions. But thinking ahead, works better to bring him back to the Army, in any case. Really wonderful feedback.**_

The next morning, the sisters took breakfast on the lawn, where they could watch the children play. The oldest, Charles, was not present, as he was at his lessons. Most reluctantly, according to Jane. The youngest Bingley, Henry, ran past laughing, Thomas close on his heels, and a nurse, pink-faced with exertion, trailed behind.

"That one may well be the death of us all," Jane commented, smiling. "He all but leapt out of the crib and into a sprint."

"He is two now, almost three?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes," Jane said, shading her eyes with her hand and watching the boys as they neared a small brook across the lawn. William and James, age 7, joined them. "And if your implicit question is as to whether there is another on the way, not presently."

"I am transparent to you, sister."

"Henry's was a difficult birth," Jane said quietly. "The doctor is not certain I will be able to conceive again."

"I am so sorry, Jane!"

Jane turned to look at her sister. "I have no regrets whatsoever, Lizzy. I have four healthy boys and a loving husband, which is more than any woman has a right to hope for." She narrowed her eyes, and Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"And what of you, Lizzy?" she said softly. "Are you not with child?"

Elizabeth suspected Jane would guess her condition, so she was unsurprised at the question.

"Yes," she answered simply. "We were so happy at the news, Jane. After the miscarriages, Thomas seemed such a gift, and I did not allow myself to hope... Richard so wanted another baby, and now I shall have to raise this child without him."

"I hope you know," Jane said, leaning forward and taking Elizabeth's hands in hers, "that you may be without Richard, but you are not alone. Indeed, I do not understand why you waited so long to write to us of Richard's death and to make your way home, but I suppose you had your reasons." Her gaze slipped briefly over Elizabeth's shoulder to the gentlemen, who were joining them on the lawn. "I would do anything to help you, Lizzy, and I suspect I am not the only one who feels that way," she finished in a gentle whisper.

The days passed thus, and Elizabeth began to recover under the care of her sister. Mr. Bingley and Lord Darcy were often absent during the days, attending to their various business, but one warm, fall morning, Darcy joined the sisters on the lawn.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," Jane said brightly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bingley," he responded. "Good morning, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Are you well?"

"I am rested, thank you."

"Would you care to walk with me this morning?"

She glanced over at Thomas. "Go ahead, Lizzy," Jane urged her. "Thomas is far too busy looking for frogs to mind. You no doubt would welcome the fresh air." Elizabeth kissed her sister gratefully.

"Thomas," she called, "I am walking now."

"Yes, mother!" he called back, not looking up from the brook.

With his permission secured, she set out on a walk with Darcy, unsure of what to expect. This was something of a departure for him; he had been solicitous of her since their arrival at Netherfield, and showed no signs of wishing to depart, but he had not sought to speak with her alone. She found herself somewhat unnerved by his request.

It turned out she need not have worried. He neither offered nor requested any confidences, but instead told her more of his political life in London, making the foibles of daily life there sound quite amusing and even rewarding. Elizabeth found herself relaxing, enjoying his company, even laughing a little. In turn, she told him of Portugal.

"It is as though the country is colored from a different palette," Elizabeth said. "Where we are all green and gray, they are red and ochre. Our sky is like a Robin's egg, but theirs is an azure jewel." He listened attentively.

"I have never been to the continent," he remarked. "I should like to see it someday."

"What? Never?" Elizabeth cried. "How is that possible, that a man of your station and intellect should have traveled so little?"

Darcy flushed, and Elizabeth hastily apologized.

"No, no," he said, waving a hand, "you are quite right. There just has never been time - always something that has required my attention, I'm afraid."

"Did you not take Catherine on a trip?" Elizabeth inquired, genuinely curious.

"No," he replied, "she found such excursions somewhat...frivolous."

She never seemed quite so grave as that, Elizabeth thought to herself in surprise.

"She was a kind-hearted woman, but duty to her family and of late the church were very important to her. She preferred the comforts of home."

They walked in silence for a time. "Did you love her?" Elizabeth abruptly asked, shocking even herself with her impertinence, but Darcy seemed untroubled by her question.

"She was a good woman, a good mother, and a good wife. I cared for her."

"She was quite beautiful," Elizabeth commented, and Darcy agreed. "She came from a very respected family."

Darcy gave her a significant look. "And such things used to be of paramount importance to me, is that what you mean to say?" She blanched and looked up at him, but saw that he was actually smiling, his eyes twinkling. "You are not wrong," he continued, "and my daughters will no doubt benefit from their family connections." He sighed, "I have learned also to value natural and earned gifts over those which are inherited."

They walked in silence for some time. "I loved Richard," she finally said. "We had a good life together."

"I know you did," Darcy said quietly.

"I can never forget him," she continued, and he murmured his agreement. "He died a terrible death, Fitzwilliam," she said, stopping to look at him.

"Tell me, Lizzy. It is not a burden you need carry alone," he replied, indicating a low, stone wall where they could sit for a moment.

Much to her surprise, Elizabeth found she did wish to tell him, so she started her story.

They had been in Portugal for three years, Richard fighting several campaigns with Portugese forces and Spanish partisans, attempting to expel the French from the Peninsula. The French had superior numbers and more equipment, but the British had a brilliant commander in Arthur Wellesley, Viscount of Wellington. Richard had been one of his most trusted officers, and they had built a disciplined and professional fighting force. "He is a great man, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said earnestly. "Richard thought he was the best soldier Britain has ever produced."

She knew that this last campaign would be important, but was not overly concerned - no more so than usual. Richard had been gone for a little more than two weeks when the news reached her that he had fallen at Salamanca.

"I went there," she said, staring into the distance. "I had to try to find him." She paused, her hands twisting in her skirts. Darcy waited, giving her time to collect her thoughts.

"I knew I was getting close," she whispered, "when I began to see the bodies. They festered in the heat, and the smell of death was everywhere." Her voice was flat, the horror of her memories leaching it of emotion. "And I prayed that I would not find him there, rotting on the field of battle."

"But you did not find him like that, surely," Darcy said feelingly.

"No," she said, "no - it was, in some manner, worse, how I found him. One must be careful what one prays, for there are fates worse than death." She told him of reaching the encampment and looking into every tent with wounded, asking for news of Richard. "All those young men," she whispered, "maimed, dying, groaning - there is no glory in war, Fitzwilliam. None, whatsoever."

She fell silent for a time, and he gently took her hand and held it.

"You found him, though, didn't you?" he prompted her. "That I did," she said, and told him of Richard's slow, horrible end. "Did he know you?" Darcy asked softly. Were you able to offer him comfort?"

Elizabeth looked at him, unsure as to whether she should tell him yet of Richard's last words.

"Let us walk some more, Cousin," she said, rising from her seat on the wall. He stood next to her, not relinquishing her hand as he took her arm in his. They walked thus back in the direction of the house. Elizabeth said nothing for some time as she gathered her courage together.

"Richard did know me, and I was able to care for him on his last day, and for that, I will be forever grateful," she started slowly. "He asked me to make him a promise, shortly before he died," Elizabeth said. "But before we speak of that, there is something you must know."

"I am with child." She watched him closely, saw him stiffen, and he looked straight ahead. "It will be readily apparent to all soon."

"I see," he said, voice carefully neutral. They walked on in silence. "Ordinarily, one would offer congratulations," he said in a formal tone, "but I admit I am uncertain as to the appropriate thing to say in the circumstances."

"No," Elizabeth said heavily. "The situation is hardly ideal."

They continued walking, neither speaking. Then Darcy finally spoke, his voice still tense. "You were going to tell me something else? Something about Richard?"

Elizabeth felt her confidence ebb. It seemed as though to tell him now would be somehow taking advantage, invoking his sense of duty to his dead cousin. She had gone about this all wrong, she thought.

"Perhaps now is not the right time..." she said hesitantly.

"Just tell me, Lizzy, and get it over with," he said with resignation.

"Yes, I suppose I should just dispense with this," she said, her eyes flashing. Darcy, having some familiarity with her particular tone of voice, looked at her in alarm.

"Lizzy, I did not mean..."

"No, you are right. I have no wish to inconvenience you," she said, disengaging her arm from his. "Richard made me promise to come to you straightaway because... Well, it is immaterial as to why. I want you to know that I release you from any obligation you may feel toward me on behalf of your cousin. There is nothing you owe me."

With that, she turned and fled toward the house.

Darcy stood for a moment, stunned by the rapid turn in events. He recovered himself quickly and hurried after her, calling her name with some urgency.


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN: OK, this is when I start rewriting history - starting to add real people and events, but not necessarily true to the record. Hope that's okay with everyone!**_

"Elizabeth!" he called, swiftly catching up with her. "Elizabeth, please! I beg of you, stop. I beg of you!"

Elizabeth was brought up short by the desperate entreaty in his voice. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lord of Pemberley Hall, had surely never begged for anything in his life before this moment. She stood, chest heaving, the front of the house in view now.

"Please," he said again, somewhat breathlessly. "Please."

She bent her head in shame, looking at her feet. She knew her anger was out of all proportion to the circumstances, but she did not know how else to feel or express herself. It was a confusion and a profusion of emotions, to which she dared not give voice.

Darcy drew a deep breath. "Elizabeth," he said more calmly. "I apologize if I seemed indifferent. I promise you, I am in no way indifferent!" he said with feeling. "I confess, though, that I do not know what to say." He cleared his throat. "I am not commonly at such a loss."

"I daresay you are not," she responded softly, a hint of her sense of humor showing through. It had not occurred to her that Darcy might be equally at sea in his emotions, and she started to turn toward him.

"No, stay facing that way for a moment," he urged her. "There is something I need to say, and it is hard enough for me to find the words right now." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I loved Richard as a brother," he said quietly, "and that alone would dictate my feelings in this matter. I will take care of your children - both of your children - as if they were my own, if you will allow it. And if you will not allow it, they will always have my protection and affection, regardless." She felt her heart might pound out of her chest as she caught the import of his words.

"So, please, rest easy on that score. You have nothing to fear." He took in another deep breath. "But I also wish... I wish..." he hesitated. He took a step closer to her, putting his hands gently on her shoulders. "This is not something I thought it seemly to raise with you yet, but I see there is no help for it. You yourself will also have my affection and protection, if you will allow it, but that is not for Richard. That is something I want for myself. I had hoped..." he faltered when he realized her shoulders were shaking and she was weeping copiously.

"Elizabeth," he said helplessly.

She turned to him then, lifting her eyes to his face. The look she gave him stunned him to silence. There were sorrow and guilt in her expression, but also a heat in her eyes that spoke of her true feelings for him and her passionate nature.

"Elizabeth?" he said again, this time an astonished question. She leaned into his arms, and he held her gingerly, as though she might again run if he startled her. Elizabeth knew it was not proper for her to embrace him thus, but she moved even closer, nonetheless. Neither said anything, though his arms tightened around her, and his lips brushed her hair.

They were startled by the sound of a carriage coming up the drive and sprang apart. "Now who the devil could that be?" he muttered.

"I suppose we shall have to go see," Elizabeth said, her voice a mix of relief and regret.

"I suppose so," he sighed, taking her arm in his. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed it under her eyes. "Do not cry, Lizzy," he said gently. "We will talk more when you are ready, but please, never doubt me."

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she said, suffused by a feeling of profound and hopeful gratitude. "I believe I shall never doubt you again in my life."

As they approached the carriage, a dainty foot emerged, shod in richly brocaded fabric, followed by the person of Lady Douglas, nee Bingley.

"Oh, good God," Darcy exclaimed, as Elizabeth stopped short.

"Caroline!" Charles called out, hurrying out of the house and helping his sister from the coach.

"Please, Charles. I have not gone by that wretched name in a decade," she complained. "I prefer my middle name, Charlotte, as you know. The name of Caroline is forever sullied by that horrible woman."

Elizabeth looked at Darcy with a perplexed expression; she had had mercifully few interactions with Lady Douglas in the last decade, despite their family ties. "She speaks of the Princess of Wales," he said under his breath. "It is a long story, and not at all a pleasant one."

"Sister, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company? We were not expecting you," Charles said pointedly. "Is Sir John with you?"

"I was in the area, Charles, and thought I should come by. Sir John remains at Montagu House, of course, where he belongs, with his dogs and whiskey." Caroline Bingley had married a Knight of the Peerage, shortly after her brother had married Jane. It was a good match, although Sir John Douglas was considerably older than his second wife, and somewhat given to drink.

Her eyes gleamed as her glance fell on Darcy. "Well, well," she purred. "Lord Darcy, this is, indeed, a _pleasure," _her eyes swept his person with frank admiration. "I had heard a rumor you were here."

"Lady Douglas," he said, with evident distaste.

"Will you not take my hand and escort me into the house?' she asked, holding out her arm.

"I am afraid not," he said coldly, tightening his grip on Elizabeth's arm. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam is unwell and requires my assistance."

Lady Douglas shrugged and allowed her brother to lead her into the house. Once they were settled in the sitting room, Charles hastily excused himself to find Jane, shooting Elizabeth a desperate and apologetic look. "I will be gone but a moment," he assured Darcy, hurrying from the room.

The servants brought in refreshments, which kept Lady Douglas busy for some minutes. She complained that the lemonade was too sweet, the cake too dry, and the presentation unaesthetic. Once she had exhausted the topic, she turned her attention back to Darcy.

"So, Darcy," she said languidly, "I have not seen you in some time. I know you are often in London, but we must not frequent the same parties."

"I believe you know my opinion of the Regency, Lady Douglas," he replied stiffly.

"The Prince Regent is very good to his friends and allies, Darcy," Lady Douglas noted. "You would do well to take heed of that. Anyone of standing - or who wishes to be of any standing - comes to his soirees."

"I am content with the society I presently enjoy," he said evenly. Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile.

Charles and Jane arrived then, somewhat breathless.

"Sister!" exhaled Jane. "What a happy surprise! Pray, what brings you to Netherfield?"

"Cannot I come to see mine own nephews?" she drawled. "Where are the little dears? Well, no matter, I would not wish to interrupt their play."

"I believe you know my sister, Elizabeth Fitzwilliam?"

Lady Douglas turned her attention to Elizabeth, feigning surprise.

"Your sister? How extraordinary. You are so brown with sun I nearly mistook you for a servant from some foreign land," she said. "I now recognize you, of course." She paused to take a bite of cake. "Yes, I had heard your husband, the younger son of some Earl, got himself killed. So sad," she said theatrically. "I imagine you have returned to England hoping to find another husband?"

Elizabeth rose to her feet abruptly. "Thank you for your thoughtful sympathy," she said, "but I am afraid I must retire and make ready."

"Ready for what, Lizzy?" asked Jane in puzzlement.

"I must leave for Longbourn at once," Elizabeth replied, "and pay respects to our mother, who is unwell." She pretended not to hear Lady Douglas's snort of derision, presumably at the thought of Mrs. Bennet being worthy of anyone's respect. "Shortly after, I shall depart for London to put our affairs in order. I apologize, but I must take my leave of you now." Elizabeth ignored the astonished looks her speech engendered, as well as Lady Douglas's murmured "how extraordinary!" and left the parlor, quickly mounting the stairs to her rooms.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN: May go back and change what he's reading, but it seemed reasonable for now... Thanks for the reviews!**_

Elizabeth rushed about the room, preparing to pack her belongings. She quickly realized it would not take long as she had not yet allowed her belongings to be fully unpacked. Most of her trunks were still full. So Elizabeth sat instead in the window seat, watching the children at play on the lawn. Before long, a soft knock came at the door. She knew Jane would follow her up the stairs; indeed, she was surprised it had taken so long.

"Lizzy?" Jane said softly. "May I come in?"

"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "It is your house, and I am your sister. You need not ask for permission."

Jane entered the room and sat next to Elizabeth in the window seat, taking both her hands.

"Dear one, you need not quit our company so soon. Lady Douglas has departed and will not be back."

Elizabeth felt her jaw drop open in surprise as Jane continued.

"Charles told her she was behaving poorly; indeed, that while such behavior may be acceptable in the circles she occupies in London, we are still people of decency and courtesy out here in the countryside."

"He said that?"

"He did, indeed. It is fortunate that he did, or I fear that Darcy might have done her harm. He was quite incensed, and only more so when Caroline...Charlotte, I suppose... insinuated that you had become his mistress. She said she saw you in a compromising position in the woods, something to that effect."

"Oh, dear," Elizabeth said, flushing.

"Darcy threatened to throw her out the window and noted that if any of the rest of us had seen the horrors that you had, we would need more than a shoulder to cry on. Then Charles told her to leave at once, that her conduct was unbecoming and had brought shame on our family."

Elizabeth looked at Jane in shock. "To be sure, what she said was offensive, but it did not warrant defenestration," Elizabeth exclaimed.

"This has been a long time coming, Lizzy. Her actions have become steadily worse since that business with the Princess." Jane paused at Elizabeth's puzzled look. "Ah, I see. I forget how much time you have spent out of the country and away from London's scandals."

Jane then told her a sorry tale, in which the Lady Douglas had become the confidant of Caroline, the Princess of Wales. Even Elizabeth knew that the Prince Regent and his wife were estranged and that he was rumored to have a common law wife and she a stable of lovers - General Wellington himself had told Elizabeth and Richard as much. There had been a long investigation of the Princess, based on accusations of infidelity. It was most unseemly, though nothing was ever proven.

"Do you recall the testimony of her friend and neighbor, with whom she had a falling out?"

"Only in the vaguest sense," Elizabeth noted, "I am admittedly little interested in such stories."

Jane nodded, "Which is greatly to your credit, sister. I myself do not enjoy trading in the misfortunes of others in such a fashion, but in this case, as the scandal involved a member of our family, I had no choice. Lady Douglas was the former friend of the royal house who gave testimony against the Princess."

"Truly?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Why did you not write of this to tell me?"

Jane's shoulders rose delicately. "We did not speak of it much. She has been a part of the Prince Regent's society ever since, though she is not much trusted with his confidence, I daresay."

"But Lizzy," she said with concern, "the woman has become an infamous gossip, and I am not sure expelling her today was in your best interests."

"What do you mean to say, Jane?"

"I am afraid you have made an enemy, one with powerful connections, and through no fault of your own."

Elizabeth was aghast. "All because her brother asked her to leave?"

Jane looked at her thoughtfully. "No, I do not believe that is it, not entirely." Elizabeth fidgeted under Jane's scrutiny. "I believe she came here to pursue your Mr. Darcy," she said softly, as Elizabeth scowled at her sister's choice of pronouns. "His fortune has grown, and with it his influence, something the Crown recognized by granting him a title. I have heard that he is much pursued by the idle wives and other women of questionable circumstances in London. Charles says the fact that he will have none of it only makes him more desirable, especially now that he is widowed."

Elizabeth would not meet her sister's eyes. "He was quick to defend you just now, Elizabeth - rather too quick, I am afraid. It spoke to his intentions toward you, if not the truth of the situation." Jane was asking her a question now.

Elizabeth jumped to her feet. "Are you in such a hurry to put me in another man's bed, sister?" she cried. "My husband is two months in his grave, and I carry his child. Can I be expected to transfer my affections so readily as that? What must you think of me!"

Jane paled at her sister's impassioned response, but would not be put off. She rose and put her arms around Elizabeth.

"I think you are a woman consumed with grief, and well you should be. I do not question that you loved Richard very much, nor that he was worthy of your love." Jane pulled back to arm's length, regarding her sister carefully. "But fortune is smiling on you sister, and you must not look away, if only for the sake of your children. You have the chance to love again, and he is a most worthy man. I have come to know him very well, indeed, in recent years, and I do not doubt that he is the best man of my acquaintance, save my own dear husband. I have also come to know that he sought your hand long ago, and that his feelings for you are unchanged, or have perhaps grown. I do not pretend to know your innermost feelings, Elizabeth, but I do know you, and I see he is not alone in this."

"This is a chance of redemption for you both, and while the circumstances that have brought you here are unfortunate, that should not preclude your future happiness. I do not believe Catherine would have begrudged Fitzwilliam that, and I am certain Richard would have wanted it for you." Elizabeth felt miserable at her sister's pronouncement, and could not meet her eye.

"Now, you think on that, Elizabeth, while you travel to Longbourn and on to London." Jane held up her hand as Elizabeth began to protest. "No, you are quite right to set things in order, and, I believe, to spend some time alone. Leave Thomas here with us - he will be very well cared for. But please," Jane finished with a smile, "do delay your departure until the morning. You need not flee the house quite so hastily. That will allow us to notify Mary of your visit."

Elizabeth looked at her sister thoughtfully for a moment "You have quite become the mistress of this manor, Jane," Elizabeth said wistfully, realizing that their relative roles had reversed, and she was now the sister in need of advice and support. "I had always thought of you as too sweet and kind for your own good, but I see you have grown confident and wise with time."

"Honestly, Lizzy, I attribute much to Charles. It is amazing what the love of a good man can mean, especially considering the limited expectations we had as girls. Security, passion, family, respect - these are very much to a woman's betterment and far too rare. Which is why," she said, smoothing her skirts and sighing, "we should save some sympathy for such as Lady Douglas, who has none of that." Jane took her hand and began to lead her from the room.

"Let us spend a pleasant afternoon with our children, shall we?"

It was a pleasant afternoon, indeed, and Elizabeth felt herself at ease for the first time in months. She put Thomas to bed in the evening, talking to him about her trip. Her heart nearly broke when he asked if she was sure she would come back, or if she might join papa.

"I will always come back to you, my darling, nor will I be gone long at all. I will think of you every moment that I am away, and we will both think of papa in Heaven."

"Yes, mother," the child said, yawning. "And I promise to play the whole time!" he added, rather more enthusiastically. "William said he would show me a bird's nest tomorrow! And Uncle Darcy will tell me more stories about my boat."

She held her son and kissed him, before descending to the dining room. The meal was pleasant but subdued, with no one speaking of the day's dramatic events. After dinner, the men retired to their billiards, Jane to some household business, and Elizabeth to the library.

Sometime later, Darcy joined her in the library, closing the door quietly behind him. She stood nervously when she realized they were alone. He ignored her evident discomfort and selecting a book, sat on a nearby couch and began to read.

"I beg your pardon," he said mildly, when he saw she was staring at him. "I did not mean to disturb you. Do you mind if I join you? It is my usual evening custom, but Charles will not often allow me such solitary pursuits."

"Of course. You are as entitled to the library as am I." He smiled at her pun.

And so they sat in silence, reading. At first, Elizabeth was acutely aware of his presence and quite uncomfortable. But she soon grew accustomed to the fact that he was there, and began to feel at ease.

"What are you reading, Cousin?" she finally asked, when her curiosity became unbearable. He was reading a philosophical work by the Scotsman, David Hume, with which she had only passing familiarity. They discussed his premise, and other like writers. Darcy credited Hume and others with influencing his ideas about his business, both his farming and his ironworks, which she found intriguing. She was reading poetry, but thought she might rather prefer the Hume, and they found a volume of his essays for her to read.

"Must you leave tomorrow?" he suddenly inquired.

"It was a rather abrupt decision," she admitted, the color rising in her cheeks.

"It was not really Lady Douglas who chased you out, was it," he said, more as a statement than a question. She closed her book and regarded him.

"No, I suppose not."

He stood, carefully tucking the book under his arm. "Then I shall say goodnight and wish you a successful journey," he said quietly, bowing in her direction.

"Fitzwilliam," she called after him as he turned away.

"Yes?" he replied evenly, looking over his shoulder at her.

She rose from the chair, walking hesitantly toward him. She stood behind him, not sure of her own intent. "He knew," she whispered.

"What?" he said wheeling around.

"He knew. Of your feelings...and... of mine, even though I did not really know, myself. He made me promise to come to you."

They were silent, not looking at each other. He took a step closer to her and much to her surprise, lifted her chin with his hand and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Safe travels to London," he said softly before walking out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Elizabeth breakfasted with her son the next morning before setting out for Longbourn. Charles and Jane saw her off, but Darcy was not in evidence. I must not feel disappointed, she scolded herself. He has made his wishes known, as have I, and I have no right to expect anything more of him for now.

Nonetheless, she departed with a heavy heart.

As Elizabeth arrived at Longbourn, her father stepped eagerly out the front door to meet her, closely followed by Mary.

"Lizzy!" he cried delightedly, "you are finally come home." With that, he embraced his daughter fondly, peering behind her into the carriage. "But what is this?" he said, perplexed. "Where is Thomas?"

"Ah," she sighed, "I could not take him away from his cousins so soon. He was enjoying too much their games and foraging about the property."

"And so he should, Lizzy. So he should. Come greet your sister and let us go inside."

Elizabeth had not seen Mary in some time, but she was little changed. Serious in her comportment and severe in her attire, Mary had the aspect  
of a religious ascetic.

"Sister," Mary said, her kind voice belying her stiff appearance, "I was so sorry to hear of your loss. Are you well?"

"Thank you, Mary," she answered appreciatively. "As well as can be expected. How is Mama?"

"About the same - as well as can be expected," Mary said dryly. Elizabeth eyed her sister in surprise. Mary was not known for either her wit or sense of humor, but Elizabeth could have sworn she had just displayed a hint of both.

She excused herself to go see if Mrs. Bennet was awake, as Mr. Bennet steered Elizabeth into the library.

"Am I mistaken," she began, "or did Mary not make a small joke just now?" Her father laughed gleefully.

"Indeed, she did," he chortled. "I have been working on her, Lizzy. She is not so quick a study as you, of course," he said, at which she rolled her eyes, "but she is much improved. And turns out to have a gift for sarcasm, which I find most enjoyable."

He eased carefully into his armchair.

"How are you, Papa?" she said softly, seeing an expression of pain cross his features briefly. But he waved away her query.

"It is just a touch of rheumatism, my dear. Nothing that need concern you. But the question is, how are you, daughter? I was so sorry to hear the news of my son-in-law. Our family is certainly the poorer for his loss."

Elizabeth allowed herself to cry freely in front of her father and Mary, who had slipped back into the room. She told them a little of what had  
transpired, but spared them the details.

"Elizabeth," chided Mary, "you ventured onto a battlefield in Spain alone? You were lucky to return to Lisbon unharmed!"

Elizabeth looked at Mary in surprise.

"She has been reading the accounts of the battles," her father explained. "I suspect Mary would have made a fine soldier herself, had she been born a boy." Mr. Bennet and his middle daughter exchanged an affectionate glance.

Elizabeth was somewhat astonished by this exchange, but recalled Jane's words of the night before. It was not the same as having a family of her own,  
perhaps, but Mary was clearly much improved by the love and respect of her father, and the current security of her situation. That she had accomplished little when little was expected of her should perhaps come as no surprise.

"What of our mother, Mary? May I see her?"

"She is asleep presently," Mary responded. "She sleeps a good deal of late. You should perhaps prepare yourself, Elizabeth. She is very poorly, I am afraid."

Just then, Elizabeth heard a high, wailing voice call out, "Mary!" Mary rose swiftly and left the room.

"She is a good girl, Lizzy," her father said seriously. "Your mother and I would be quite lost without her." He sighed. "There are times when I feel guilty keeping her here, but she has shown no inclination to marry. For that matter, there is no young man who seems inclined to marry her." He sighed again. "Jane has promised to provide for Mary, once I am gone. I would extract the same promise from you, but I fear you are in no position to make it. How are your finances?"

"Well enough," she replied, "for now. In fact, I plan to go to London tomorrow to prepare the townhouse for sale. Those funds, in addition to income from the estate, should be sufficient, providing I manage the land well enough."

"I have no doubt you will, Lizzy. You were always quite astute about business."

She smiled at her father. "You taught me everything I know, Papa."

"Lizzy, pardon the interruption" Mary said, "but Mama would like to see you now."

As they walked up the stairs, Elizabeth slid her hand into Mary's and squeezed it gently. "Are you well, sister? You seem to be taking care of everyone."

"Well enough, Elizabeth," she replied without sentiment. "It suits me to make myself of use."

"Yes," Elizabeth murmured, as they approached her mother's bedchamber, "I can see that it does."

Even with Mary's warning in mind, Elizabeth halted on the threshold in dismay. The room was dimly lit, dust motes floating lazily on the single shaft of  
light filtering through the shutters. Her mother lay propped against the pillows, skeletal hands clutching anxiously at the blankets. Her face was pale nearly to the point of translucence, her eyes sunken and sad in a somewhat vacant way.

"Lydia?" she said in a high, thin voice, looking at the two women in the doorway. "Is that my darling Lydia, come to pay respects at last? Lord, where have you been child?"

"No mother," Mary corrected her gently. "It is Lizzy - Elizabeth. She has been away, in Portugal, and has come some distance to see you."

"Oh, Lizzy. Well, why did you not say so in the first place? I had hoped for Lydia, but there is nothing for it. I am dying, Lizzy, did you know? Dying." Her mother wheezed a little laugh. "After all my years of worry, Mr. Bennet will outlast me." She coughed. "Still, I would have liked a chance to live at Netherfield with my Jane. Four boys she has, and such a fortune." She closed her eyes for a few moments, the rasping of her breath filling the room.

"Well, come closer, Elizabeth. I can hardly see you from there." Elizabeth approached her mother obediently and perched on the side of the bed.

"Hello, Mama," she said, not knowing what else to say.

"Elizabeth! You must not be wearing your bonnet! You are nearly black with sun. That won't do. And your hair! It is a mess - you must let the girl ere curl it for you. I know your husband is only a second son without an inheritance to speak of, but you still have to keep up appearances!"

In spite of her mother's condition, Elizabeth could not suppress a smile. Her mother may be dying, but she was unrelenting.

"Yes, Mama, I will take better care."

Her mother suddenly reached out a claw-like hand, resting it on Elizabeth's bodice. "Another baby?" she asked.

"You are as observant as ever, Mother. Yes - little Thomas is three now, almost four, and another is on the way."

"Good. That is good, Lizzy," her mother said tiredly. "You have given your husband an heir. That is a woman's purpose." Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet began to cry. "And I never did. I failed him. No heir, no son to keep the estate in that family. All goes to that wretched Collins man and his unappealing children." She sobbed inconsolably.

Elizabeth looked at Mary in dismay.

"Mama," Mary said patiently, taking her mother's hand. "We have spoken of this many times. Four of your five daughters are safely married and well situated." Mary gave Elizabeth a warning look, and she realized her mother did not know of her misfortune. "And I dare say Jane or Elizabeth can make room in their households for me someday," she added, with no trace of self pity. "You did very well by your husband."

"Yes, I suppose I did," Mrs. Bennet said sleepily. "And Lydia, the wife of an officer! And such a big family. She has made me so proud. Now Lizzy, don't forget to wear your bonnet."

Mary settled her mother on the pillows as she dropped off to sleep, and they both quietly left the room.

"How long has she been like that?" Elizabeth asked her father back in the library, sitting down heavily.

"Oh, six months or so, though it is hard to say, truly. I did not give her complaints much credence at first." He smiled wanly at Elizabeth. "I never thought I would miss her fussing about the house."

The three sat in silence until Mary rose to supervise the afternoon tea. Once the tea was served, they talked all afternoon of Elizabeth's time on  
the continent, of Thomas, of Mary's readings.

"I hear you visited Pemberley in the spring," Elizabeth said, careful to keep her voice even.

"Oh, yes!" Mr. Bennet replied excitedly. "What a marvelous library he has there, Lizzy! You would be most impressed. I was quite surprised when Lord Darcy extended the invitation - I see him at Netherfield on occasion and once with you and Richard, but never expected such a consideration. He has some antique, high quality volumes, but also the very latest works, even from America. And one could not ask for a more solicitous host. He spent hours talking with me, and a better informed gentleman I've never met; his sister is grace personified." He frowned at his daughter. "I seem to remember you once found him objectionable, and I do recall that he did not make a good first impression on any of us, but we were very much mistaken."

"Yes," said Elizabeth ruefully, "we certainly were." She could not resist inquiring as to whether the Darcys asked after her.

"Yes, both he and his sister spoke of you warmly. Indeed, it was clear to me that Lord Darcy much admires you," her father said mildly, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes, well, we are cousins, after all. And Richard was like a brother to him."

"That must be it," her father agreed, a small smile playing about his lips. "Well, I think I will go look in on your mother before dinner," he said, rising with a grimace and walking stiffly up the stairs.

"Shall we walk, Mary?" Elizabeth asked her. Mary shook her head. "No thank you, Elizabeth," she said politely. "I am not much of a walker."

"Shall we play something on the pianoforte?"

"You may, if you wish. I have not played in years."

"Well, goodness, Mary, is there anything you do for your own enjoyment?"

"Of course, Lizzy, but you do not have to try so hard to be friends with me. We never have been so close, and I do not expect it of you now. It is enough that we are just sisters."

"I am grateful that you are looking after our parents so well. Is there some way I can help you or ease the burden that you carry?"

"Thank you," Mary said, this time with a smile. "It is enough that you know I do it and appreciate me for it. It is no burden to me; caring for them gives me purpose."

Elizabeth bowed her head, humbled by her younger sister's simple devotion.

"Shall we return to the library to read?" Mary asked. "I am certain that is an activity we can enjoy together."


	10. Chapter 10

_**AN: Oh, such nice reviews - made me think that I am making this all a little too angsty. Didn't set out to do that, but it's just where the story is going. SO I thought maybe I'd give you nice people a slightly frothy interlude here. It's a bit of a detour, but not a derailment; back to our regularly scheduled angst soon.**_

Elizabeth rose early and set out on a walk, following her customary path. The mist rose lazily off the ground and the dew sparkled on the edge of the leaves. She felt a profound sense of comfort at being in these familiar places, as though the woods were an old friend with a warm embrace.

She had reached her favorite spot, a promontory on the edge of the forest that overlooked a meadow, when she realized there was a saddled horse there, grazing. She looked about and saw Mr. Darcy, sitting against a tree, his arm casually resting against one knee.

"I thought I remembered correctly where you preferred to walk."

She looked at him, stunned at first and then slowly smiling.

"You left without saying goodbye," he said softly, looking up at her with a serious expression on his face.

She undid her cloak and spread it on the ground, sitting next to him.

"Ah, but it is you who did not come to see me off!"

He smiled, "True. I thought you might like some breathing room."

"And yet here you are."

"Indeed. Well, it was quite rude of me to let you go without a farewell and I felt I must make amends."

"Very sensible of you. Quite gentlemanly."

His smile faded and he took her hand. "The truth is that I could not bear knowing you were so close without seeing you."

"You went years without seeing me, Fitzwilliam," she pointed out.

"Yes," he said, "but it is not the same; you know that."

"Is my Thomas well?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes, very well," Darcy responded. "The ship captain vanquished the tiger and turned his hide into a cape. Now he is on an expedition to rescue the lost Hindu princess."

She smiled at him. "How came she to be lost?"

"A powerful sorcerer has stolen her away and hidden her in a castle concealed in the clouds."

"And how will this brave captain rescue her?"

"It will be a long and arduous quest," he said, lowering his voice dramatically, "with many obstacles in the path."

"What manner of obstacle?"

"The road is bewitched to take many turns and be difficult to follow, and there are demons along the way, distractions and temptations, jealous kings..."

"My goodness," Elizabeth exclaimed. "It sounds as though he may never reach her!"

"Those obstacles are nothing to our intrepid hero," he promised. "He will not be dissuaded."

"So he will find her?"

"Ah, that depends," he said solemnly. "For the magic that keeps her prisoner in the clouds is very powerful, albeit deceptively simple."

He paused for effect. "She has to want to be found."

She laughed delightedly and swatted him on the arm.

"You do have a way of making your point, sir!" They both laughed, then he stretched his long frame and stood.

"I should return to Netherfield," he said, "Shall I walk you back toward the house first?" He offered her his hand, helping her to her feet. Then he retrieved her cloak and fastened it about her. Elizabeth held her breath, amazed that such a commonplace act could carry so much meaning.

"How is Mrs. Bennet?" he inquired as they walked.

"I fear she will not live much longer," Elizabeth responded, and he murmured condolences. "But she is true to form to the last. I have never been my mother's favorite, and in turn have found her behavior to be a frequent embarrassment," she said, matter-of -factly. "I never understood why my father married her; they seem so ill-matched. I did not like to think he would be swayed by beauty alone." Elizabeth sighed, "but I begin to understand that just as many do not have the opportunity to choose whom they will marry, we do not always choose who will be master of our hearts, either. Some are unlucky in their marriages; some are unlucky in their masters."

"That seems to hold true in the bonds between mother and daughter. As burdensome as my mother can be, I love her and find I am not ready to lose her. So I will not stay long in London," she concluded.

They walked in silence for a moment. "I think I should leave you here," Darcy finally said, as they approached the house. He turned to face her, holding both her hands in his. "I feel very lucky, indeed, that you are the master of my heart, Elizabeth. I hope those are feelings you might return someday."

"I already do, Fitzwilliam, I think you know that. We are past the age of pretense, and neither of us was ever much given to it" she said in a level voice. "But my heart still has more than one master to contend with." She looked at him with a small, sad smile: "I am not yet ready to be found."

He smiled back at her, and then leaned in to kiss her once again. This kiss persisted a bit longer than the one in the library, and when he pulled away, Elizabeth found her arms acting of their own accord, reaching up around his neck and pulling him back to her. He eagerly kissed her again, their lips moving against each other naturally, as dance partners familiar with each other's steps. She felt an energy sweep through her, suffusing her face and tingling at her fingers, a small sound of surprise escaping her at the intensity of the feeling. As their lips parted and tongues touched, a swooning sensation came over her.

They broke away from each other, faces close together, both breathing heavily.

"Elizabeth," Darcy said wonderingly, his fingers touching her face.

They stood like that for some time. Elizabeth felt as though the laws of gravity were bending to hold her there; she could not move away from him. He, however, seemed free from such constraints and took a step back. He reached for her hands and brought them reverently, lightly to his lips.

"Elizabeth, I am nearly 40 years old now," he said, "And while it is true I have not traveled on the continent, there is not much that is new to me. Not much that surprises me. But that was a surprise: I have never, in all my years, felt anything near to that."

Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He touched his lips to her hands one more time before releasing her. "Hurry home, Lizzy," he said, voice husky with emotion. Then he turned on his heel and strode purposefully away.


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: Back to your regularly scheduled angst.**_

It had been nearly four years since Elizabeth had spent any length of time in London, and she was astonished at the changes in the city. The population had grown immensely, as had the level of commerce and industry. As a result, there seemed to be a great many people at all times, everywhere, and always in a hurry.

The ascendancy of the Prince Regent, along with mechanized factories, had brought a new level of opulence to the city, which was immediately apparent. What was less apparent to her until she had been in the city for several days was the underside of all the new activity. There were more nefarious streets and neighborhoods than there had been before, more squalor and corruption than she could recall. She was careful to consult with the servants about the areas to be avoided, which seemed to be changing every day.

Elizabeth had been in the city four days when she received an invitation to visit Carlton House. She could not imagine what circumstance had produced such an invitation for her, for this was the residence of the Prince Regent. Her steward investigated, however, and while it was not certain if the Prince himself would be present, the invitation was genuine. It was made clear that declining the invitation would be considered a social trespass. She wrote to Jane of the matter, wishing she could solicit her advice in time. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had no insights to offer, never having received such a summons.

So two nights later, Elizabeth found herself alighting from a carriage at the palace, with great misgivings. Nor was the mystery of why she had been invited to the party immediately resolved upon her arrival. There were many important men present, mostly members of the ton, or their close associates, but no one familiar to her. She began to notice with a sinking heart that few of them appeared to be accompanied by their wives. Then her worst fears were all but confirmed.

Lady Douglas swept into the party with a cadre of friends in tow, fashionable to the point of appearing somehow overripe, as a fruit too long on the branch. Lady Douglas was laughing loudly and scandalously kissing nearly every gentleman she encountered on the cheek. Elizabeth sought to remain unseen in the background, which was highly improbable in the bright blue, gold-trimmed room. Even if light had not been cascading through the cut glass in every corner and nook of the room, Lady Douglas had a keen eye.

"Ah, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," she all but shouted across the room. "I am so glad you were able to accept my invitation." Her eyes glittered with malice as she crossed the room to kiss Elizabeth. "I had heard you were arrived in London, and I decided I would take you under my wing. We are related by marriage, after all."

Lady Douglas took Elizabeth by the arm and spoke to her loudly enough that any guest who cared to listen could hear her every word. "I feel very  
sorry for you," she said, with exaggerated sympathy. "A widow like yourself with such a small inheritance is so very vulnerable in our society today. Here in this room, however, a woman like you ought to be worth..." Her eyes swept appraisingly up and down Elizabeth's frame, "perhaps £400 per annum. Though I hear that sister of yours in Bath gives herself away to common gentlemen for far less than that." The men nearest them roared with laughter.

"Whatever can you mean by that, Lady Douglas?" Elizabeth snapped.

"You needn't pretend to be so innocent, my dear," Lady Douglas preened at her. "We are women of the world, are we not?" She sighed, and looked Elizabeth over again. "Still, I suppose you are correct. The mistress of the Lord of Pemberley Hall is surely worth more than that to some of the gentlemen here." With that, Lady Douglas swept away and left Elizabeth staggering at her words, as those nearby eyed her with curiosity.

"Could that be Elizabeth?" came a familiar voice. "Elizabeth Fitzwilliam? What on Earth are you doing here?" Elizabeth looked up to see none other than Arthur Wellesley, Viscount of Wellington and Commander of the British Army in the Peninsular war, striding toward her. She gasped, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"General Wellington!" she exclaimed. "I am relieved to see you, sir, in the utmost."

"Yes, well," he said somewhat uncomfortably, "let us get you out of here, my lady." He held out his arm to her and escorted her to the door. As they walked out, a very richly dressed woman with hard eyes and rather much of her décolletage on display turned to the General. A look of annoyance crossed her face. "Leaving so soon, General?" she said pointedly, in a low and dulcet tone.

"I will be back, Harriette," he said briskly. "Never fear. This is the wife of one of my commanders - I fear she has suffered some misdirection in coming here tonight. I shall see her off and return to you directly."

Elizabeth held her head high all the way out to the carriage, sustained only by her pride. Wellington, a shrewd judge of character, was not fooled,  
however. "Not to worry, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," he said kindly, patting her on the hand, for she and Richard had known him very well. "I will cover for you and make excuses. There will be no stain on your honor - I will see to it."

"Thank you, General," she whispered, the tears starting in her eyes again. "But how do you come to be here? I thought surely you would be in Spain."

He grimaced. "And so I should be," he agreed, "but the Crown is doing me the honor of making me a Marquess, and wishes me to be present for the ceremony. So I find the war must wait, though I doubt it is waiting for me. Shall I call on you tomorrow, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth nodded gratefully and thanked him. He waited until she was safely away, watching her departing coach thoughtfully. Then he turned and walked back into the palace decisively, which was his manner in all things.


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN: Won't always be churning this fast, but I will have even another chapter to post tonight...**_

Elizabeth woke the next morning with a headache and a heavy heart. Jane's warning that she had made an enemy in Lady Douglas had certainly borne out, and Elizabeth was anxious about the damage her reputation may have suffered from her presence at Carlton House the evening before. It was one thing for a lady of the ton to attend such affairs, but quite another for a widow of no particular standing. Lady Douglas had laid quite a trap for her, and she had tripped blithely in.

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth felt acutely her provincial upbringing, wondering if it were advisable for her to be in London society at all.

A knock on the door disturbed her reveries, as the steward announced she had a visitor. Elizabeth felt ill at the thought that Lady Douglas may have come to continue her torment, but was surprised and delighted to hear that her visitor was Georgiana Darcy.

"Elizabeth!" Georgiana cried, nearly running across the threshold. "My dear, dear Elizabeth!" The friends embraced warmly, and Elizabeth saw there were tears on Miss Darcy's cheek.

"Why Georgiana," she said. "You are weeping!"

"Oh, Elizabeth - I am so sad for you, and so sorry for poor Richard. My brother said you would come to Pemberley soon, but I simply could not wait any longer to offer you comfort."

"It eases my heart to see you, Cousin. As it happens, I am sorely in need of comfort this morning. Come, let us sit awhile."

Elizabeth told Georgiana of Richard's demise, though she did not wish to burden her gentle cousin with the horrors of the circumstances.

"You were able to hold him as he passed?" Georgiana said, tears glistening in her eyes. "Did he know you?"

"Yes, he knew me. Indeed, his last thoughts were concern for me and for Thomas - and for the child he did not live to see." Elizabeth placed one hand gently on her midsection.

Georgiana's eyes widened. "A sister or a brother for your Thomas," she whispered, "a final legacy for Richard."

Elizabeth bowed her head and closed her eyes. "A sister, I think," she said. "I feel certain it is a girl."

"You must stay with us at Pemberley. I know Richard would not want you alone with an infant at Chawton House."

Elizabeth looked at Georgiana, wondering if she were in her brother's confidence.

"I speak only for myself," Georgiana said gently. "I would like nothing better than to help you bring my beloved cousin's child into the world. I know you have many sisters of your own, but you are like a sister to me, too, and you are the only one I have."

"And what of yourself?" Elizabeth said softly. "It speaks well of you and your noble heart that you want to help me the way you have helped your brother, dear Georgiana. But do you want nothing for yourself? A family of your own?"

Georgiana smiled and looked down as she smoothed her skirts. "I am well aware you are attempting to change the subject, Cousin, but I will not force any confidences or concessions from you. Yes, of course I want that - to fall in love, to have children of my own," she sighed. "I accept that it is unlikely, though."

"Georgiana," Elizabeth chided, "you are only 26 and a most accomplished and beautiful woman. It is by no means unlikely. Your own brother did not marry until he was past 30."

"Yes, but he is a man, and a man of means at that. It is never too late for a man of means. The truth is, Elizabeth, that I have yet to find a suitor with whom I would wish to spend my life. They all seem more interested in my allowance than my person and wholly lacking in dimension. I must believe there can be more to life and love than polite conversation between hunting engagements. As it is not necessary for me to marry out of duty, as it was for my brother, I am comfortable devoting myself to my family."

Poor Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth mused. She had always suspected as much about his marriage, but he had been careful to be solicitous and appropriate toward his wife. He had always done what was right and expected of him, she reflected, which made his impassioned proposal to her at Hunsford all the more remarkable. She smiled to herself at the memory of how poorly he had chosen his words. On the other hand, she had misjudged him completely, as much a prisoner of her pride and prejudice as he had been of his. He had retreated to Pemberley then for a time, partly to make amends and partly to nurse his wounded dignity. While I am sorry for the way I treated him and that he did not, in the end, marry for love, I have no regrets about refusing him, Elizabeth concluded firmly. For when Mr. Darcy left Rosings, Richard, then Colonel Fitzwilliam, stayed. What had started as a friendship between him and Elizabeth soon became a romance, and then a frustratingly long courtship.

"You are quite lost in your thoughts, Cousin," Georgiana said, watching Elizabeth closely.

"Indeed," Elizabeth smiled at her. "I was remembering when Richard and I were first courting."

Georgiana paused, evidently picking her words carefully. "No one expects you to forget him, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth just nodded at her. "I know, dearest. I know. Now," she said briskly, "you must hear of the farcical events that have befallen me here in London. I fear that I am much in need of good counsel and friendship." Elizabeth recounted her visit to Carlton House, finding that she was able to turn it into an amusing anecdote - the mysterious invitation, the outrageous splendor, the indecorous behavior; it all made for a good story.

"But what did she mean, that you would be worth £400 a year?" Georgiana interrupted, a shocked look on her face.

"I do believe she meant I should be some Lord's kept mistress, with a fee for my attentions," Elizabeth responded.

"Well, that is ridiculous. You are worth at least £5,000," Georgiana said in a flat voice. "That is my annual value, at any rate." Elizabeth met her eye in shock, at which point they both burst into laughter.

"Cousin," Georgiana said, wiping her eyes, "I apologize for making sport of that which is not in the least bit amusing. The woman is a demon, and I am mortified that you were humiliated in such a fashion."

"That's not the worst of it," Elizabeth warned, and Georgiana paled. "She intimated there was something improper between me and your brother, and there were many people present to hear her say so. Fortunately, a gallant rescuer intervened at that point."

"How fortunate," Georgiana murmured, but her expression was troubled.

"Yes, if you are able to stay, you will meet him, for he has promised to call on me today."

If possible, Georgiana looked even more ill at ease. "I am at your disposal, Cousin," she said, "and will stay as long as you will allow. But who is this knight in shining armor you speak of?"

Just then, the steward came in to tell Elizabeth she had another visitor. "Well, he shall tell you himself!" she exclaimed, "for he has, in fact, arrived."


	13. Chapter 13

General Wellington strode into the room, resplendent in his military dress, plumed hat under his arm.

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam," he said warmly, kissing her hand with old-fashioned gallantry. "I trust you are feeling more yourself today?" he noticed Georgiana sitting on the couch. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily, "I did not realize you had company."

"Not to worry, sir, you may speak freely, for she is family. May I present Miss Georgiana Darcy of Pemberley Hall, Richard's cousin. Georgiana," she said, taking her cousin's hand as she rose to her feet, "this is Arthur Wellesley, now the Marquess of Wellington, and Richard's commander for the better part of a decade."

Georgiana gasped and held out her hand to him eagerly. "Marquess Wellington," she said, "it is such an honor to meet you at last. General Fitzwilliam spoke of you often."

"Miss Darcy, the honor is all mine, for he spoke often of you and your brother, as well. I can see that he did not exaggerate as to your good character," he said smoothly. "I am afraid Elizabeth has prematurely elevated me; the ceremony is not until later this week. For now, I am a mere Viscount," he smiled. "In truth, the only title that holds any meaning for me is that of General."

"Can you stay and visit awhile?" Elizabeth inquired, indicating a comfortable chair.

"Thank you, I can and with your forbearance, will." He settled himself and then turned to Elizabeth. "I would not say the circumstances of our meeting yesterday were fortuitous, and we should talk more on that, but I would have sought you out, in any case. You are the only person who could feel the loss of General Fitzwilliam more than I do, Lizzy." Neither Elizabeth nor General Wellington noticed that Georgiana's eyes widened at the familiarity with which he addressed Elizabeth.

"Thank you, General," she responded quietly, eyes downcast.

"He was my finest leader, and a gifted cavalry officer, Lizzy - I fear his loss will be to the lasting detriment of the Crown in this infernal war. He was also more than that," Wellington continued quietly, "and something rare between a commander and a subordinate: he was my friend. Some of the happiest moments of my life occurred in your household, at dinners with you and Richard." Elizabeth looked up, startled to see tears in the great General's eyes. This moved her even more than his words, for he was known for his cool head and discipline in all things. He was not called the Iron General idly. "It is a loss I shall carry to my grave," he finished.

"Thank you, General. Richard had the highest respect for you, and would have been honored to hear you call him a friend."

"My admiration for you, dear lady, is as boundless as my admiration for your husband. I have seen many brave acts on the battlefield, but your arrival in Spain was one of the bravest. There are few women who would have the courage or presence of mind to cross a war zone to be by a fallen soldier's side. It was a somewhat reckless act, but it spoke to the strength of your love and character." He glanced at Georgiana, who continued to look decidedly uncomfortable.

"Your cousin is a remarkable woman, Miss Darcy."

"Indeed she is, sir."

"But now you must tell me, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, what you have done to get on the bad side of Lady Douglas. I do not know how much you know of her, but it is not a good place to be."

"To be frank, sir, I am not entirely certain what I did. I have known her long but not well; she is related to my sister, Jane, by marriage."

"How unfortunate," he commented.

Georgiana finally spoke up. "Elizabeth, I believe Lady Douglas is quite simply jealous of you, and always has been."

"Of me?" Elizabeth cried. "But Georgiana, that is preposterous!"

Georgiana smiled at her. "You should see yourself at this very moment, Cousin, your eyes flashing and jaw set. It is your liveliness of spirit and mind, in addition to your other fine qualities, that make you so admired. Lady Douglas is incapable of understanding that kind of distinction; and what she cannot understand, she fears; what she fears, she hates."

"Well said, young lady," Wellington offered, looking at Georgiana with interest. "Not to worry, Elizabeth. I have taken steps to counter Lady Douglass's infamy."

"Steps, General?" Elizabeth inquired, still red-faced from Georgiana's compliments.

His eyes twinkled. "I know most of the gentlemen who were present and was able to correct any mistaken impressions," he said tactfully. "Also, a friend of mine, Miss Harriette, whom I believe you met on the way out of Carlton House, is no friend of Lady Douglas and was happy to oblige my request to provide a counter attack."

"You have hatched a campaign, then, General?" Elizabeth said.

"I am not to be trifled with" he chuckled, "though I confess that I would rather face Napoleon's entire army than a room full of London society ladies any day." He rose to his feet then, pulling on his gloves.

"Speaking of which, I regretfully have business to attend to. If I may, I would like to call on you both again, perhaps tomorrow afternoon?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said. "You know you are always welcome in my home, General."

"And you will always have my protection, Lizzy," he said softly. "I owe Richard nothing less. Though I noted that Miss Darcy here is quite capable of defending you, as well. Good day, ladies," he bowed and departed.

"Well, Georgiana, I believe you just met one of the greatest gentlemen in England. What did you think of him?"

"He is, indeed, impressive, Elizabeth. But if he is truly a gentleman, how can you explain his presence at that debauchery last night?"

"I fear I cannot explain it, Cousin, except to say that such behavior seems rather more commonplace these days. He was by no means the only one there who would ordinarily be called a gentleman. The Prince Regent himself is said to have a common law wife."

"What of your General Wellington? Does he not have a wife?"

"He does," Elizabeth allowed, "though I have only met her once in all the years I have known him. He fell in love with Kitty when he was a young man, but her family would not allow them to marry."

"Why ever not?" Georgiana exclaimed.

"They felt that he was not good enough for her - a younger son of a Lord with no money to speak of. Like Richard, he came back from India a wealthy man, however, and was granted a title, as well, for his military prowess. Kitty's family relented, now that Wellington was rich and powerful."

"Unfortunately for him, he had been denied her company in the intervening years, whereas Richard and I wrote and saw each other as often as possible. When the General went to wed his love, he found her much altered, but he felt duty bound to marry her."

"But that is awful," Georgiana cried. "Lizzy, did he actually tell you this?"

"Oh, no, no – I cannot imagine he would speak of it. But Richard was often with him at the time, and he told me of it. Today, he and his wife spend very little time together. So while I do not condone his behavior in finding comfort with other women, nor do I judge him. I continue to see him as a man capable of greatness whom I believe will win this war."

Georgiana was silent, her hands wringing nervously in her lap.

"Are you quite well, Cousin?" Elizabeth asked with concern.

"Oh, quite!" Georgiana said hastily. "Just a bit tired from the journey, I suppose. Perhaps I should rest awhile."

"Of course. Will you stay with your uncle and aunt or at your brother's home, or would you care to stay here with me? I know it is not so grand..."

"Being with you would make any setting grand, dear Cousin. Indeed, I thought I might be of some assistance and then accompany you back to Netherfield, when your business in London is complete."

"That would be wonderful, Georgiana. I will feel much more at ease, having you here. Let me show you to your room."

A short while after retiring to rest, Georgiana summoned her attendant. "This letter must be taken immediately to Netherfield," she whispered. "Deliver it only into my brother's hands, and ride as though the devil himself is reaching for your coattails."


	14. Chapter 14

_**AN: A bit of a bridge chapter, with some background that I hope will satisfy some of the comments. Some of General Wellington's words in this chapter are actual quotes from letters he wrote in this time period.**_

They had a subdued dinner that evening; Georgiana still had an air of distraction about her.

"How are the girls faring?" Elizabeth asked after a prolonged silence. She wondered if her young charges were the source of Georgiana's preoccupation.

"Oh, very well, considering the circumstances," Georgiana readily responded. "Esther took her mother's death quite hard, I fear. She is an unusually bright child, and so we have already engaged a governess for her. That has helped turn her mind to other thoughts. Phebe, on the other hand, is too young to understand what has happened and is by nature a very high-spirited girl. Indeed, I arranged for a second nurse to stay with the girls while I am here, for it will take at least two to keep up with little Phebe."

Georgiana seemed to relax as she spoke of her nieces, and Elizabeth decided that she simply missed them. Although the vexing business with Lady Douglas surely weighed on her, as well.

They spoke then of the Fitzwlliam family. Richard's parents had passed away some time ago, and he was not close to his brothers, and neither were the Darcys. Nonetheless, they had written to Elizabeth to express their sorrow, and his oldest brother, the Earl, had offered his assistance, if she was in need.

Georgiana nodded. "Geoffrey does not have a warm exterior, I fear, but he has a good heart underneath ."

"Which I certainly appreciate," Elizabeth sighed, "but all the same, I hope not to be in a position to depend on charity, even from family."

"That brings to my mind something Lady Douglas said," Elizabeth exclaimed suddenly, making her guest startle. "When she made her slanderous comment about my relative worth, she said something about Lydia giving herself away. What do you suppose she meant by that? Can it be true?"

"I am sure I do not know," Miss Darcy replied, "for while I do see the Bingley family quite frequently, I do not often see Lydia or your other sisters. I would not put too much stock in what Lady Douglas says about anything, however."

"No, no," Elizabeth said hurriedly, "I don't suppose I should! I shall write to Jane about it."

Before long, both women were yawning, for it had been a long day. Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears as she said goodnight to her cousin. "Thank you, Georgiana," she said fervently.

"Whatever for?" Georgiana said sleepily.

"For keeping me company," Elizabeth replied, kissing her cousin on the cheek. "I did not know how lonely it was here until I was no longer alone. Sleep well, sweet Cousin."

The next day, Georgiana seemed more at ease. She helped Elizabeth take stock of the household effects, deciding which items to pack and send to Chawton House.

"This has certainly been a comfortable home for us," Elizabeth reflected, "but I am surprised at how few truly personal belongings we have here. Most of the contents may as well convey with the house."

Georgiana nodded. "Chawton House was more of a home for you, was it not?"

"In truth," Elizabeth said, "wherever we were was home. After all, Thomas lived nearly his entire life in Lisbon."

"What was it like there?" Georgiana asked.

"Difficult at first," Elizabeth recalled. "The situation was still dangerous, and the deprivation was terrible for so many in the countryside. General Wellington was particular, however, about providing aid for those who were suffering; I helped as much as I could."

"Lizzy, why did you never tell us of this? To think of you in such circumstances, and with a baby, at that!"

"We were never at any serious risk, Georgiana. The British Navy was guarding the harbor and keeping us well supplied. And the people of Lisbon were grateful - a wonderful people, full of life and conviviality. Truth be told, I found serving our purpose there invigorating." Elizabeth smiled slyly at Georgiana. "I would not fare well as an idle wife at a country estate."

"Anyone who knows you is well aware of that, Cousin," Georgiana replied, with a sly smile of her own.

As the day wore into afternoon, Elizabeth noted that Georgiana was often at the window.

"Never fear, Cousin," she said finally, "I am sure he will be here soon."

Georgiana looked at her in surprise. "I beg your pardon, Elizabeth. To whom might you be referring?"

"Why, General Wellington, of course! I expect him any time - he said he would come, and he is a man who honors his promises."

"Yes, of course, of course," Georgiana said hastily.

Elizabeth frowned at Georgiana, but before she could ponder her cousin's reaction, the steward announced the arrival of General Wellington.

Elizabeth strode eagerly to the door to meet him. "Good afternoon, General, are you well?"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy. I am well, and even better now that I am here." He seized both of her hands and looked at her warmly. "Forgive me for arriving late," he remarked. "I was checking on the progress of the war. Trouble with the allies, I am afraid."

"Your allies in Spain, or your allies here in London, sir?" Elizabeth inquired, arching an eyebrow.

He looked at her in surprise, and then let out a deep laugh. "By God, woman, you do not miss much, do you? As it happens, my allies in both locations lack a certain amount of fortitude."

A spirited conversation about the relative merits of Portugese and Spanish soldiers ensued. Georgiana, having little to contribute to the discussion, moved to the pianoforte and softly played.

"We might well have taken Madrid two weeks earlier if d'Espana had followed my orders and held the bridge at Alba de Tormes," Wellington commented with disgust. "If this game had been well played, it would have answered my purpose. Had I any reason to expect that it would be well played? Certainly not. I have never yet known the Spanish army to do anything, much less do anything well."

"I fear that Spain's military incompetence," Elizabeth said thoughtfully, "is in no small measure a reflection of their political turmoil and so beyond d'Espana's capacity to repair. If you were to assume the role of Commander of all the allied forces, perhaps it would give them a reason to trust you unreservedly, and the excuse they need to improve as a force, in spite of their own government."

General Wellington raised his eyebrows. "Well, Lizzy, it has taken me some time to come around to that view, but I agree. I still have reservations, but the Spanish Cortes has offered me the title of Generalissimo, and Whitehall is now considering the matter."

"Forgive me for presuming to advise you."

He looked at her closely. "Not at all. There is nothing to forgive, Elizabeth. Your advice is far more shrewd than that of most of my military commanders. Indeed, I suspect any man fortunate enough to have the benefit of your consideration might well be assured of victory."

Something in the General's tone made Elizabeth shift uncomfortably in her seat. Georgiana, meanwhile, suddenly hit a discordant note, something very rarely heard flowing from her skilled fingers. General Wellington, though well known for his love of music, appeared not to notice. "You flatter me, sir," Elizabeth said quietly, eyes downcast. "I am afraid my consideration brought my husband no such victory."

"No, I suppose not, Lizzy, but you gave him more advantages than you know," he said evenly. "There is not always rhyme or reason as to who falls on the battlefield; talent, sklll, and righteousness are sometimes no match for the capricious path of the musket ball."

Looking expectantly at Elizabeth, he said, "I fear the hour is growing late. I should leave you to your dinner."

"Will you stay, General? You would be welcome to join us."

"Why, thank you, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, I would be delighted to join you."

"If you will excuse me for just a moment, I shall go make the arrangements."

"Of course," the General replied. As Elizabeth made her way to the back of the house, her steward brought her a newly arrived message.

"My word," she murmured, as she read the contents, and then read them again in disbelief. "Please let the messenger know that Lord Darcy is, indeed, welcome to call on me. Tell him, in fact, that I should be honored if he would join us for dinner."

Elizabeth hurried off to the kitchens to discuss how to stretch the menu to accommodate not one, but likely two unexpected guests.


	15. Chapter 15

When Elizabeth returned to the sitting room, Georgiana had just finished playing. General Wellington applauded her with great enthusiasm.

"Miss Darcy," he exclaimed, "you are quite a talent! Thank you for the favor of your performance - I do not believe I have ever heard that piece played so well."

Georgiana smiled at him. "Thank you, General. It is something that I enjoy, but it is you who are granting me a favor: much of my enjoyment results from the pleasure others may find in the music." She looked up at Elizabeth questioningly. "Is all well, Cousin?"

"Yes, indeed," she replied, "though we are to have another guest for dinner tonight. Your brother, Lord Darcy, has arrived in London and plans to call on us. He should be here any moment."

"Indeed?" Georgiana responded, raising her eyebrows. "What a wonderful surprise." She smiled at Elizabeth placidly.

"Yes, no doubt a surprise of the highest order," Elizabeth said dryly.

"Capital!" the General exclaimed. "I have heard much of Lord Darcy from General Fitzwilliam, but also from my brothers, who are in the world of politics. I look forward to meeting the man." He rose and looked through the sheet music on the pianoforte. "Miss Darcy, will you not play something else for me, before he arrives? The memory of such glorious music will give me much comfort in the hard months ahead."

Georgiana pursed her lips and considered what to play, discussing the relative merits of various pieces with him. She was clearly pleased at having such a knowledgeable and appreciative audience. Soon after she started to play, however, Darcy arrived, striding into the room. Georgiana jumped up from the piano to embrace her brother.

"Dear sister," he murmured.

"General Wellington, may I present my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lord of Pemberley Hall. Lord Darcy, this is Arthur Wellesley, Viscount Wellington, and Commanding General of the Peninsular Army."

The two men bowed to each other. Elizabeth's heart sank when she caught the cold and haughty look on Darcy's face.

"Lord Darcy," the General began warmly, "I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. My brother, Richard Wellesley, speaks very highly of you, as did General Fitzwilliam. Please accept my condolences on his passing; it is a great loss."

"Thank you, General. And I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude for your solicitude of my cousin's wife, as well."

Wellington regarded Darcy, unable to conceal his surprise at the coldness of his manner and his choice of words.

"Indeed," Elizabeth inserted hastily, "Richard and I have known the General well, and for the better part of a decade. Richard would have been very grateful to know of the trouble the General is going to on my behalf."

Wellington smiled at Elizabeth. "Madam, it is no trouble. It is a pleasure to be of service to you and indeed, I have come to value your advice as much as I valued that of Richard."

"Well, we shall have to hope that ends better for Mrs. Fitzwilliam than it did for her husband." Darcy commented.

"I beg your pardon?" the General said in disbelief.

Georgiana took her brother's arm and said in a soothing tone, "won't you sit for a moment? You must be tired from the journey." He gently lifted her hand off his arm and remained standing. "Shall I play some more while you relax? General Wellington chose the music - he is a great judge of music."

"Your sister is very gifted at the pianoforte," Wellington said warily, watching Darcy closely. "I have been enjoying listening to her play."

Darcy inclined his head. "Thank you. It is no surprise that you would seek such enjoyment. Your reputation precedes you."

Wellington's expression darkened.

"You are speaking, of course, of the General's reputation as a patron of the arts," Elizabeth said sharply, as Darcy merely raised his eyebrows. "Indeed," she continued, "his own father was quite an accomplished musician. Georgiana, will you play for us?"

"It will be my pleasure. General, this is a somewhat difficult piece, as you know, since you selected it. I do believe you mean to test me! It is only fair that I test you in return and determine if you are able to keep up with my progress. Are you willing to turn the pages for me?"

"I would be delighted, Miss Darcy," the General said, smiling at her. "I can only hope we both pass our tests," he added with a sidelong glance at Darcy.

Darcy made a move to follow them to the pianoforte, but Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. "Lord Darcy," she said quietly but firmly, "a word, perhaps?" He met her gaze steadily, crossing his arms.

"General Wellington is a guest in my home, and he is someone to be trusted and admired," she said pointedly, careful to keep her tone low as Georgiana began to play.

Darcy regarded her for a moment. "You have a generous heart, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, and I would not want to see anyone take advantage of your natural inclination toward trust and admiration."

Elizabeth flushed and lowered her eyes. "I am afraid you misunderstand me, Lord Darcy. It is my husband who trusted and admired General Wellington, and I will not dishonor his memory by treating his commander with anything less than respect."

"Your husband would have wanted..."

"Do not," Elizabeth started, pausing when she realized she had raised her voice rather too much. "Do not presume to tell me what my husband would have wanted." She dropped her voice even lower. "For God's sake, Fitzwilliam, if you cannot be civil, you should not stay," she lowered her gaze again. "Surely you understand that it is not prudent to offend this man, for your own sake as well as for mine." She raised her eyes then and blanched at the anger and disgust she saw in his face. He, in turn, appeared much affected by the fear and dismay on hers. He dropped his head and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, she was even more concerned to see a look of desperation.

He took her hand and touched his lips briefly to her knuckles. "I will try," he whispered, "but I am afraid I am not entirely rational where you are concerned, Elizabeth."

"Then you should not have come," she whispered back. "Please, do not make me regret how happy I was to get your message."

It was Lord Darcy's turn to blanch.


	16. Chapter 16

Elizabeth perched on the settee, listening to the music, with Darcy next to her. Neither spoke.

Though Elizabeth appeared calm and relaxed, her mind was in turmoil. Darcy obviously suspected General Wellington of some disreputable intent toward her, and while she wanted to quickly reject such a supposition as ridiculous, she knew it was not. It was not unheard of for widows to attach themselves to wealthy and prominent men, who could offer financial support and protection in return for their favors. Such arrangements were ordinarily discreet and unacknowledged, Lady Douglas notwithstanding. And while she had never seen General Wellington in the company of any woman, save his wife on that one occasion, she was aware he was rumored to have mistresses. Perhaps his friend at Carlton House, Miss Harriette, had been rather more than that, Elizabeth suddenly realized, remembering her reaction when she thought he was leaving with Elizabeth.

She studied him, as he stood at the pianoforte. He was entirely transported by the music, a look of preternatural calm on his face. It was rare for his expression to be so open and readable, she reflected, with the exception of the past two days, in which he had been warm and intimate. Was it possible he meant to offer her an arrangement? He likely did not see it as any dishonor to his former subordinate and friend; quite the opposite, in the strange code of the man at arms.

She had never thought of General Wellington in this way, as a man, rather than a commander, aloof and apart. She found it unnerved her; it reminded her of the skin-crawling discomfort she had felt when Charlotte Lucas had disclosed she would marry Elizabeth's odious cousin, Mr. Collins, shortly after Elizabeth herself refused him.

So she looked at Arthur Wellesley through new eyes and realized that he was surely considered quite a handsome man. He was tall and lean, always clad in fitted white breaches, high boots in the Hessian style, and a long, blue coat. Indeed, his elegant martial style of dress was said to have influenced the latest fashion for the London dandies. He had strong features, with a hooked nose and square jaw. Rather like Lord Darcy, his thick, dark curly hair was graying at the temples in a way that only enhanced his masculine appeal. His quiet confidence spoke to the power of his personality and position; he had a command presence that was all the more compelling for being unaffected.

Just then, he looked away from the sheet music and met her appraising eye. He calmly returned her gaze and let his eyes travel her figure in a way that made the nature of his interest in her unmistakable. Looking down at her hands folded in her lap, Elizabeth admitted to herself that he might well make her an offer if she gave him encouragement. General Wellington was undeniably attractive to Elizabeth, but she knew she did not desire him. Nor did she wish to be attached to any man on such terms.

Lord Darcy had seen the exchange of glances, but could have no way of knowing how Elizabeth received such blatant flirtation. He appeared stoic, at least outwardly, though two small spots of color on his cheeks suggested his internal state might be somewhat more turbulent.

Soon thereafter, a serving girl announced that dinner was ready to be served. Elizabeth stood, taking a deep breath, full of apprehension about the meal that lay ahead. "Lord Darcy," she said, looking at him with a silent entreaty, "would you be kind enough to escort me in to dinner?"

He nodded, an unfathomable intensity in his eyes, and offered her his arm, which she gripped tightly. He did not speak to her.

General Wellington and Georgiana Darcy, however, were having an animated conversation about the relative appeal of English and German composers, which continued even as the soup was served.

"General, have you heard the sonatas of this new German, Beethoven?"

"Yes, indeed, and I understand they are not to the taste of many in London, but I find his music intriguing."

"As do I," Georgiana agreed passionately. "The critics find his melodic themes far too complicated -– 'cluttered' is the word I believe they use - but I find it exhilarating. I hope someday to hear his music performed by an orchestra."

"Perhaps I shall have the honor of escorting you to such an occasion, though I fear I shall have few opportunities for such pleasant diversions for some time."

"Must you return soon to Spain?" enquired Elizabeth, as the meat was served. General Wellington began to carve as he responded.

"Yes, I am afraid so. I have already stayed here too long. We made great gains these past few weeks; now is the time to press our advantage, and we shall be able to push Buonaparte off the Peninsula for good. That will be a great day for England, indeed."

"I believe you said there is no glory in war, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, did you not?" Darcy spoke quietly. "None, whatsoever, were the words I think you used."

"That is true, I did say that. I was speaking of seeing the wounded at Salamanca, General. All of those young men in agony... It was hard to feel anything other than the pathos of such circumstances," Elizabeth said. "You will think me soft-hearted, I fear."

"Not at all, dear lady. As I told you and Miss Darcy, I consider your presence on that battlefield an act of extreme bravery; few can understand what you now know to be true. There is no glory in war, madam; there is only necessity." He paused, glancing at Darcy. "Only a fool or a man of comfort who has never tested his courage would think otherwise."

"Yes, well, that is certainly the argument you have put forward to the Parliament; I suppose it is much easier to get men of comfort to part with our gold for necessity than for glory," Lord Darcy said, looking back across the table at the General.

"Are you suggesting, sir, that I am in this war for sport, perhaps?" Wellington said, after taking a deep drink from his wine glass.

"Not at all," Darcy said smoothly. "But you have done well by war, have you not? It may be necessity for the soldiers who serve under you, but it does seem to bring considerable glory to you, Wellington."

Elizabeth groaned and closed her eyes. At the other end of the table, Georgiana Darcy was covering her face with a napkin.

"That is easy for you to say, Darcy. Anything worth having requires struggle and striving, but that can be hard to understand for a man never weaned from the wet nurse."

"Or for one who relies on the brothel for company," Darcy shot back.

General Wellington looked at Darcy thoughtfully for several very long seconds. Then he slowly pushed his chair back from the table and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy, you will have to excuse us, for Lord Darcy and I apparently require a private word. Sir, will you accompany me to the sitting room?"

Darcy rose without speaking or looking at any of his dining companions and left the room. Wellington was close behind him.

Georgiana finally lowered the napkin over her face and stared at Elizabeth in disbelief.


	17. Chapter 17

_**AN: Thanks so much for the feedback! I know folks would like to see the confrontation between Darcy and Wellington, but I need to keep the narrator POV consistent. Perhaps I'll do a one shot from a different perspective just to show the confrontation! Also, just to keep expectations in check: going to keep the K+ rating (you'll see what I mean at the end of this chapter)... **_

The two women sat in shocked silence for some minutes. Then Elizabeth unaccountably began to laugh, which proved contagious; they laughed together until their chests ached and there were tears streaming down their faces.

"What should we do?" Georgiana finally said, dabbing the napkin at the corners of her eyes. "Though that was certainly a welcome catharsis, we cannot just sit here and laugh while they may be coming to blows in there."

"No," Elizabeth sighed, "but I am not sure it would be wise for us to interrupt, either. Let us give them a little time to work through…whatever that was. Perhaps more wine would be helpful in the meantime?" Elizabeth suggested, and Georgiana gave an exaggerated nod, moving to sit next to her cousin.

They sipped uneasily for a few minutes. Then Georgiana looked up to see Elizabeth watching her expectantly. As they made eye contact, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, a wry quirk in the corner of her mouth.

"I know, I know…" Georgiana said, holding up a hand. "I apologize, Lizzy, but I was not wrong to summon him."

"What on Earth did you say to him?"

"I wrote of your tribulations with Lady Douglas, noting that she had opened up the bidding on you and left you vulnerable. You have not been in London in years; I tell you, society life has changed here and is more vulpine and rapacious than you can imagine. I told him I thought you were in need of protection."

"And? What else did you say? That alone is not sufficient to explain the performance we just witnessed," Elizabeth pointed out.

Georgiana looked down, her cheeks red.

"Just tell me, Georgiana. I need to know what you told him if we are to put this right."

"You have to understand," Georgiana started, so softly Elizabeth had to lean forward to hear her, "how alone he has been. Not just since Catherine died, but nearly all of his life. We are close, of course, but I am still a responsibility for him as much as I am a companion." Georgiana looked at her now, and there was no hint of apology in her eyes. "He has friends he enjoys and Catherine was a dutiful wife, but there has never been anyone as close to his heart as you are; I believe you are meant for each other. At the time, I considered it a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare that you fell in love with our cousin instead; of course, I know now that it was a far worse tragedy for Richard to die the way he did. But out of this misfortune, I had hoped there would be a second chance for Fitzwilliam. Please tell me I have not ruined that chance!"

She paused, but Elizabeth said nothing, waiting for her to make her disclosure as to what she wrote to her brother. Georgiana's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"It was obvious to me that General Wellington was attracted to you, and he is a man of action who is accustomed to taking what he wants. In his current circumstances, he is unlikely to waste time on niceties, and I was not certain you would feel yourself in a position to refuse him. I told my brother he had a rival, and one who would likely be overpowering. He seems to have formed his own opinion of General Wellington somehow; I assure that I cast no aspersions on the man's character in my note."

Georgiana waited anxiously for Elizabeth to speak, but she remained silent.

"I am so sorry, Lizzy. Truly, I am. I had no idea Fitzwilliam would have so little control over his emotions; I have simply never seen him act that way. Never."

"I think, perhaps, you have been reading too much romantic poetry," Elizabeth said gently, to take away some of the sting of her words. "But why did you have so little faith in me and my own actions?"

Georgiana hung her head in shame. "It is not you in whom I have little faith," she said feelingly, "but rather everyone else."

The two women sat in silence for a time; nearly an hour had passed since the gentlemen left the dining room. Elizabeth rose suddenly. "I can hear a disturbance," she said. "It is time we intervened."

With that, she moved purposefully out of the room. As she opened the door to the sitting room, the sight that met her eyes was not what she had expected. The two men were sitting across from each other comfortably, drinks in hand, laughing uproariously. Elizabeth stopped so suddenly in the doorway that Georgiana ran into her, pushing her unceremoniously into the room.

"Ah, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," General Wellington said, eyes twinkling, "good of you to join us. Come in, come in. Darcy was just telling me a most amusing story. Probably best that we shift to more polite conversation now that you ladies are present, however."

Georgiana and Elizabeth just looked at the two men, open-mouthed.

"Is something the matter?" Darcy asked innocently. He patted the cushion next to him. "Sister, do come in and sit down. Wellington here has invited all three of us to attend his investiture ceremony tomorrow. Does that not please you? You seem a little pale; perhaps you are too tired to attend." Georgiana moved across the room to sit down next to her brother, murmuring that she was quite well and it would please her greatly to attend.

Elizabeth sank slowly into a chair next to the General. "What…what have you two been discussing this whole time?" She suspected she should not ask, but the words just tumbled out.

"Pig iron!" The General declared.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Pig iron," he continued, a gleam in his eye. "Darcy here has a factory outside London that uses all the latest manufacturing innovations. He thinks he can solve my problem with our ordnance – the bores are just miserable in quality and are continually exploding, which has caused as many casualties among our artillery forces as has our enemy. Darcy thinks he can make a much improved cannon for me. I can hardly wait to see Soult's face when the spring campaign begins and he realizes that not only does our artillery work for a change, the range is much improved." The General laughed heartily at the thought.

"Indeed," Darcy said, smiling at his erstwhile rival, "the General has decided to stay in London an extra day so he can come and tour the factory."

"I will bring some of my men, Darcy," he added. "That way we can give you some measurements."

"Well," Wellington said, slapping his hands on his knees and leaning forward. "I am guessing from the uncharacteristic silence of the ladies here that they must be in need of rest," he smiled broadly. "Darcy, I would ask you to join me at the club, but I suspect the ladies might require some conversation with you. Miss Darcy, I thank you for the concert this afternoon and the gift of music, the memory of which will sustain me for some time to come. Mrs. Fitzwilliam, if you would see me out so I may speak to you for a moment, I would be appreciative. I am delighted you will all honor me with your presence at the palace tomorrow."

"The honor is all ours, General," said Darcy, raising his glass.

General Wellington walked down the stairs behind Elizabeth, stopping at the door to talk to her. "Darcy and I are agreed," he said softly, "that it would be best if you were to leave London as soon as possible. We need to get you out of Lady Douglas's clutches for now. Have you finished with your business here?"

"Whatever can you mean that you and Darcy are agreed?" Elizabeth said in astonishment. "When you left the dining room, you were clearly not disposed to agree on any matter whatsoever."

The General chuckled. "No, I don't suppose we were, but we understand each other better now. So tell me, have you completed your business in London?"

"Yes," she replied dazedly. "I suppose I have; the lawyer told me to return in a week to sign the paperwork, and it will be a week tomorrow."

"Excellent," he said, taking her hand. "Then it is settled. You and Miss Darcy can leave for the country in two days; and I will return to the front knowing you are well cared for." He kissed her hand lightly and looked at her with a wistful smile. "Don't be too hard on him now, Lizzy. He is a good man, and life is short."

With that, the General stepped out into the night.

Elizabeth watched him go. She was not at all sure what had just transpired, but as no one had been injured or challenged to a duel, she supposed it was a good outcome. She closed the door and turned around, only to see Darcy standing there, watching her.

"Good lord, Fitzwilliam, you startled me!" she exclaimed, holding one hand to her chest.

He took a step closer to her and she glanced up at his face, gasping when she saw the look in his eyes She tried to take a step back away from him, but found her back was against the door.

"Where is Georgiana?" she said quickly.

"She has gone to bed," he answered, voice low. They stood, staring at each other without speaking, and then Darcy stepped forward decisively and swept Elizabeth into his arms. He turned and began mounting the stairs, carrying her.

"Fitzwilliam, no!" she said weakly. "We musn't!"

But he ignored her and carried into her bedchamber, kicking the door closed behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

_**AN: Based on the reviews, I don't think everyone's going to like this... But hope it's entertaining, at any rate. Let me know if anyone feels I need to kick the rating up a notch. It may be a couple of days until I can post again... **_

Elizabeth woke at her accustomed time, stretching in the dawn's light that stole through the shutters. She sat up and sighed as she looked around the disordered room. She knew she should tidy up before the servants came in as they might be even more tempted to gossip than they likely already were. Last night's dinner was anything but conventional.

She slipped out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown, wrapping it tightly about her. With her lean frame, her swelling abdomen was hidden when she wore the customary high-waisted gowns, but nonetheless quite apparent when she was unclothed. This had not seemed to bother Darcy, however, who had run his fingers reverently across her tumescent skin. She shivered and smiled at the memory, and then chastised herself for her wanton thoughts.

What is wrong with me, she pondered, that I should think on such things?

As Elizabeth picked up her clothes, she explored her own feelings, as the tip of a tongue probing at a sore tooth. Much to her surprise, she found there was no pain there; she felt no regret whatsoever.

Last night, as they had lain together, a tear tracked down her face, which Darcy had kissed away. "Do not cry, my love," he said softly, though he could not hide his concern at her distress.

"It is just... I am no better than Lady Douglas said I was, am I?" she whispered.

"I am afraid I did not give you much choice in the matter," he said, a half smile on his face, as his fingers traced the curved line of her belly.

"You would have stopped if I had asked you to," she said. "We both chose this."

"Then marry me," he said intently, looking in her eyes. "Marry me right away, tomorrow. I do not want you for a mistress; I want you to be my lawfully wedded wife. Right away. Do not even say what I can see you are thinking; I do not care what anyone else thinks. I do not want to spend another day - or night, clearly - of my life without you. Marry me."

She had laughed at him, trailing her fingers lightly around his face. "How like a pendulum you are, Lord Darcy! The first time you proposed to me, you cared only what others thought; this time you care not at all. Is there no middle for you?" He had laughed back at her, noting that he was like a pendulum in other ways, as well, and then silenced her thoroughly with an ardent kiss.

She repeated his words over and over in her mind as she straightened the bedclothes. Did I make the right choice, she wondered? The baby would be born midwinter, and she had convinced him to wait until then. It would not have been seemly for her to bear a child so soon after their marriage; she did not wish the parentage of her child to be in question.

Elizabeth was by no means certain, however, that she herself wanted to wait. What had happened between them last night was extraordinary. She and Richard had enjoyed their marital bed, but this was something altogether different. Their mutual passion, the urgency of his need for her; she had never felt anything like it before. Of course, Darcy had clearly not had an adventuresome marriage, so there was much she had to teach him, though he had already proven to be an avid student.

She shook her head in dismay at the tenor of her thoughts. I may be wanton, but I am resolved to wait, she reminded herself.

And then she allowed herself to think of Richard. Was this a betrayal of him and all they had meant to each other? If she loved Darcy this way, did it make everything she felt for Richard invalid? She tried to remember their earliest days together, and whether there had been the same intensity. But she knew there had not. Guilt flooded her, but she also forced herself to recognize that it was just different. She and Richard had a true love that would have lasted a lifetime if he had survived; neither of them would have felt there was anything missing. In some sense, she hoped the guilt would never leave her because it would mean he was not forgotten, but at the same time, she accepted that she did not feel guilty about loving Fitzwilliam Darcy.

After she had bathed and dressed, she joined Georgiana for breakfast. "Are you well?" Georgiana asked, peering at her anxiously.

"Quite well," Elizabeth responded.

"Did you have the opportunity to speak with my brother before he left last night?" she pressed.

"I did," Elizabeth said without looking at Georgiana. "Never fear, Cousin. All is well. We made...we made our peace. He will bring a coach by to take us to the ceremony later this afternoon."

"You are not angry with him?"

"No, dear, I am not angry. Do not mistake me; I would have much preferred to make it through dinner with only polite conversation, but it all came out well enough. In any case, I need not have worried as to whether there was enough food for four people."

Georgiana giggled. "I thought they were going to duel on the spot; it was like watching two bucks lock antlers."

"Yes, who then shake hooves and go to the club together for a whiskey."

Georgiana shook her head in disbelief. "Men are mysterious creatures," she said.

"Well," Elizabeth said, rising, "I must go to the lawyer's office this morning to sign some paperwork. I would welcome your company if you care to come with me."

"Of course," Georgiana said. "I will just go fetch my bonnet."

As soon as Georgiana went upstairs, the steward announced Lord Darcy had come to call. Elizabeth was elated she would not have to wait until the afternoon to see him, though she realized she felt unaccountably nervous and clutched her hands together.

He walked quietly into the room hesitating on the threshold until the door closed behind him. She could not help herself; she flew into his arms.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, kissing her fervently. She tangled her fingers into his hair and pressed herself against him.

She pulled abruptly away as she heard Georgiana's feet tripping down the hall. Darcy moved to the window to compose himself.

"Are you ready?" Georgiana began and then stopped. "Oh! Fitzwilliam! You are here already? I thought we were not expecting you until this afternoon. Are you coming with us to the lawyer's office?"

"Yes, yes," he said, turning around, a flush still on his neck. "I thought perhaps I could be helpful." Georgiana gave him a puzzled look, and then glanced at Elizabeth, who was looking determinedly at the floor as she tucked a stray lock under her bonnet.

"Are you quite all right? You are not still angry at each other?" Georgiana said anxiously.

"Fine, we are fine, Georgiana," Elizabeth said hurriedly. "We should go."

No one spoke in the carriage, and Georgiana appeared uneasy and confused as she looked back and forth between her companions.

When they arrived at their destination, Darcy stepped out of the carriage first and offered his hand to each woman, in turn. Elizabeth took his arm as they turned into the solicitor's office, with Georgiana close behind. The matter was quickly concluded, particularly with Lord Darcy present to expedite the process, and they were back in the carriage in no time.

Elizabeth and Darcy talked in great detail about the business at hand, and how precisely to get the best price for the house. Elizabeth was clever at such matters, and Darcy readily agreed that her plan was sound. Georgiana watched them with interest, as they began to discuss his plans for General Wellington's visit to his ironworks the following day. Neither took note of Georgiana's silent regard.

Darcy left them to dress for the investiture ceremony, kissing Elizabeth's hand and promising to be back in two hours. The two women hurried to prepare themselves.

Elizabeth dressed carefully as she was aware that there would likely be some scrutiny of her based on her recent escapade at Carlton House. She had one suitable mourning dress, which had been made for her in Lisbon. The tailor was the best in all Portugal, and he was beside himself at the opportunity to stitch such finery, as he had before the war. Indeed, he had a hidden storeroom of fine fabrics, including some black and gray silks. The dress was much too elaborate for everyday wear, but the man had wept with joy when he saw her in it. He refused payment, saying that it pained him that his rare moment of beauty in this terrible war was a result of her sorrow and loss. She had sent a servant with the money, regardless, the day she left, along with some food, knowing that certain items would be hard for him to obtain. It really was a beautiful dress; indeed, she hoped it would not attract too much attention.

When she went downstairs, she found both Darcys waiting for her. "oh, but you look so beautiful, Georgiana!" she exclaimed, seizing both her hands and examining her appearance delightedly. Georgiana was wearing a soft lavender-colored dress, trimmed in black lace with a black sash; the color accentuated the creamy perfection of her complexion and contrasted the dark luster of her hair. Elizabeth looked then at Darcy, and her breath caught in her throat. He wore a long, dark morning coat over close-cut breeches, with an elaborate, pristine white cravat; she had never seen him look more handsome.

"Am I not presentable?" he said, chuckling as she flushed.

"I suppose it will have to do," she managed to say with a smile.

"You look quite presentable, as well," he said awkwardly.

"Oh Fitzwilliam," Georgiana said scoldingly, "where are your manners? Presentable, indeed. Lizzy, it is the most beautiful and dignified gown I have ever seen; it is quite a tribute to your Richard."

With that, they departed for the palace. As they alit from the coach, Georgiana pulled Elizabeth's arm gently from her brother's and looked at them with glowing eyes.

"I believe you are communicating rather more than you intend to," Georgiana said softly. "Perhaps while we are here under watchful eyes, it would be best if I stood between you and you tried not to touch each other." There was much blushing and throat clearing, to Georgiana's great satisfaction, as the couple moved apart and made room for her. Darcy kissed her on the cheek and took her arm, and Elizabeth gave her other hand a grateful squeeze as they walked into the palace together.


	19. Chapter 19

_**AN: Here I am! For the last chapter, I don't intend to change the rating, just wasn't sure if that was a bit too racy for a K+, but seemed to be okay. Let me know what you think!**_

The ceremony in Westminster Palace was to be brief, and according to Darcy, was somewhat unnecessary, as Wellington was already a peer. Nonetheless, the Prince Regent had insisted on it; indeed, the ceremony and reception to follow were something of a compromise. The Prince had wanted to throw a ball in Wellington's honor, a very exciting prospect for London's elite, given that the social season was many months away. So they had come from their country estates in Kent and York; from their seaside retreats in Brighton and in Bath. Much to her amusement, Elizabeth even heard one woman, festooned with ostrich plumes, note that she had come from her annual shopping tour in Paris. "Only such a spectacle could tempt me to leave France," she declared.

They were all disappointed, however, as Wellington would have nothing to do with a ball, reminding the Court that although there had been important victories in recent months, the war was far from won. There was a rumor circulating that he had said it would be unseemly for him to "simper and dance in a ballroom while my men suffer and die on the battlefield."

As Elizabeth looked around the chamber, she was surprised by the large number of women who were also clad in black; most more modestly attired than was she. "There are so many widows present," Elizabeth whispered in surprise to her companions. Darcy looked at her, an amused expression on  
his face. "I believe it is your General Wellington, displaying his tactical prowess," he said softly.

Elizabeth and Georgiana looked at him uncomprehendingly.

He chuckled dryly. "Parliament has been somewhat parsimonious when it comes to the General's requests for war funding. I presume he thought the sight of the widows of British soldiers might prove persuasive. If not to the Lords, perhaps to their wives."

Elizabeth looked around those seated in the gallery and saw the truth in his observation. There were a number of ladies in sumptuous, colorful gowns  
and elaborate hats looking around anxiously, pressing handkerchiefs to their eyes or clutching at their husbands' finely-tailored sleeves.

Georgiana laughed out loud, covering her mouth as a cross-looking woman in a diaphanous green column of a gown turned around and stared coldly at her. Georgiana lowered her eyes modestly and bowed her head, at which the lady sniffed and started to turn back when her eyes fell on Elizabeth. She barely glanced at Elizabeth's face before deliberately looking over her dress, neckline to hem. She then pursed her lips, gave a very slight nod and turned sharply to the front. "Countess Lieven," Georgiana whispered in awe to Elizabeth. "Wife of the Russian Ambassador and a patroness of Almack's. To my knowledge, that may be as close as she has ever come to showing even a modicum of approval for anyone or anything."

"Is that desirable?" Elizabeth whispered back merrily.

"That all depends," Georgiana said. "It is said that the only thing worse than being hated by the ladies of Almack's is being loved by the ladies of Almack's."

The herald entered at that moment, striking his staff against the flagstone. General Wellington came in soon after, flanked by the Marquess of  
Bath and the Marquess of Winchester, all clad in red. The Lord High Chancellor, sitting on his woolsack, intoned some ritual words and then  
administered the oath. Afterwards, General Wellington was escorted to his seat, and the ceremony was thus concluded. It seemed an inordinate amount of pomp for so brief an affair, though the Prince Regent's reception was likely to last through the night.

Elizabeth planned to leave after the ceremony, believing that the celebration would not be appropriate for a woman in mourning. Wellington, however, had other ideas.

An officer in full dress uniform, plumed hat under his arm, approached her, identifying himself as General Wellington's Aide-de-Camp. "He requests your assistance, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, in greeting guests."

"Mine, sir?" she responded, startled.

"Yes, madame," he said. "The General requests that you and Mrs. Bowes assist him."

"Mrs. Bowes!" she cried. "Major General Bowes' wife? She is here?" The major indicated this was so, and Elizabeth moved to follow him with alacrity, then stopped to glance uneasily at Darcy. He smiled tightly and nodded at her to go ahead.

"Tactics," he murmured, turning to greet an approaching gentleman. "Ah, Lord Alveny, so good to see you. I do not believe you have met my sister..."

The enveloping crowd quickly swallowed the sound of his voice as Elizabeth followed the soldier.

"If I may be so bold, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," he said, pausing as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "I would like to express my condolences. My brother had the honor of serving under General Fitzwilliam."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, looking more closely at the soldier. "May I ask your name?"

"Yes, Madame," he said hastily. "I am Major Henry Worcester."

"Ah, then would your brother be Colonel George Worcester?"

The officer broke into a broad smile. "It would indeed, my lady. He claimed you would remember him, but I did not believe him."

"He would be difficult to forget," she responded, returning his smile. "Colonel Worcester was a great favorite of my husband's; I met him many times. When did you see him last? Is he well?" she added anxiously.

"I saw him right before we left Spain, and he was quite well, though very shaken by General Fitzwilliam's death."

"And Mrs. Worcester? Is she well?"

"She is, my lady. She is staying with her sister's family in Derbyshire."

"My husband's family live in that area; is she in need of any assistance?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," he responded, wide eyed. "That is a very kind offer, and it will mean a great deal to my brother to hear you showed such generous consideration for his wife in your own time of need." He flushed at his frankness, and then looked relieved to see that they had arrived at their destination. He bowed to Elizabeth as General Wellington smiled and gestured for her to join him, but Elizabeth only had eyes for the woman next to him.

Maria Bowes was ten years Elizabeth's senior, thick-waisted and careworn with grief, but still radiating a joyful warmth.

"Oh, Lizzy" she cried, "my poor Lizzy! I am so sorry."

"As am I, Maria. I was so sad to hear the news."

The two women, who had been the closest of friends in Lisbon, embraced. Major General Foord Bowes had been killed in action in Salamanca the day  
after Richard was wounded.

"It seems a lifetime since you left for Yorkshire," Elizabeth sighed, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

"It has been more than six months, and a lifetime, indeed, for both of us. When did you return? How is Thomas?"

"Ladies," General Wellington interrupted gently. "I know you have much news to share, but I wondered if I might prevail upon you."

"Of course, Arthur," Maria Bowes said with the ease of long association. "We are yours to command, as were our husbands."

Wellington smiled. "Thank you, Maria." He stood close to the two women and spoke in low tones. "This is an opportunity I cannot afford to squander to turn the tide in this war. I must have more funds; our soldiers quite simply lack the supplies they need to prevail, from cannon to food to boots. I can scarcely believe that the Treasury is aware of the distress of this army."

"Unfortunately, I am not blessed with the patience to extract money from the purses of hard-hearted politicians; they are more likely to hear a curse than a plea from me, I fear. But no one at this assemblage could help but feel his heart stir at the sight of two such lovely women, deprived in an untimely manner of their husbands, both of whom were general officers of respected lineage." He smiled grimly at them. "And you are both a far sight cleverer than anyone you are likely to encounter here, so I invite you to play outrageously on their sympathies." Both women looked somewhat taken aback at the General's blunt request, but he did not even blink as he gazed at them.

"This is your war, too," he said softly. "Will you not stand with me?"

"Of course we will, General," Elizabeth said firmly, and her companion nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"Ah, Liverpool," Wellington promptly called out. "Allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Maria Bowes, Major General Bowes' widow. Mrs. Bowes, this is the Prime Minister. Now, we were just speaking of her husband's courage in the Siege of Badajoz. Perhaps you could continue the story, Mrs. Bowes, while I introduce Mrs. Fitzwilliam to the Earl over there."

The next hour went by in a blur of condolences and pointed conversations. Elizabeth cried with the women and described the bravery of British soldiers under fire to the men.

"You are doing just splendidly, Lizzy," General Wellington crowed in her ear at one point. "After speaking with you, Earl Bathurst, the new War Minister, said he would now make it his personal mission to secure my resources."

Just as fatigue began to set in, blending the festive colors and well-heeled faces of the crowd together for Elizabeth, one face came into sharp focus in front of her.

"Well, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," Lady Douglas trilled. "You do seem to attend a great many parties for one in mourning. Still looking for a new husband?"

The woman next to her, thin lips pressed together and small eyes glittering, giggled behind her hand.

"Why, Doug," she tittered, "was this the little widow you told me of? The one who came to the gentleman's game night at Carlton House?"

"The very same, Lady Asterley!" Lady Douglas exclaimed. "Can you believe she would show her face in polite society?" The two women laughed, and Lady Douglas swept a contemptuous look from Elizabeth's drawn brows down her frame. Her eyes narrowed suddenly, and she pretended to stumble. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" she cried, resting her hand on Elizabeth's waist to steady herself.

"Why, Mrs. Fitzwilliam," she said delightedly, sliding her hand over Elizabeth's midsection. "Are you with child? Why yes, you certainly are."

Her companion gasped, looking shocked. Before Elizabeth could say anything, though, she heard a familiar voice, much to her relief.

"There she is!" cried Georgiana Darcy. Lady Douglas and Lady Asterley turned toward Georgiana, happy to potentially have another victim, but both fell silent and pale when they saw who Georgiana was with.

"Countess Lieven, this is my cousin, Mrs. Elizabeth Fitzwilliam. Mrs. Fitzwilliam, may I present Countess Lieven, wife to his Excellency, the Ambassador of Russia. She was asking to meet you."

"Your dress," the Countess pronounced, looking down her nose at Elizabeth. "It is not English. It lacks the usual vulgarity."

"Yes, Countess, it was made for me on the continent."

"Where?" she demanded. "Who was the tailor?"

"In Lisbon," she supplied, "Rodrigo Cuidad made it for me."

The Countess sniffed. "I am surprised he is still alive."

Lady Douglas recovered from her shock. "My dear Countess," she gushed, "I do not know if you would care to associate with this person, who appears to be of rather low morals. I have just ascertained that she is _enceinte,_ even as she presents herself as a pitiable widow."

Countess Lieven fixed Lady Douglas with an icy stare, a look she was much practiced in. "Miss Darcy," she said, "did you not tell me this woman's husband was killed fighting Napoleon in Spain some two months ago?"

"Yes, Countess."

"When is this child due?" she enquired sharply.

"In February, I believe," Elizabeth said, eyes on the floor.

"That would make you four months along, would it not? While I do not question your ability to count, Lady Douglas, and you are certainly a good judge of low morals," Countess Lieven said coolly, "it seems to me that this woman appears to be more deserving of sympathy than censure. I should add that she clearly has better taste than you do, incidentally." She nodded at General Wellington, who had quietly come to stand behind Elizabeth.

"General," she said. "Is it not high time you returned to the Peninsula to ruin that vile man's ambitions? Russia is doing its part to rid Europe of Napoleon."

"It is indeed, Countess," he responded, bowing to her. "And I set sail for Spain one day hence."

"Good," she pronounced. "Godspeed. Asterley, you may come with me now, even though you appear to be trapped in last season's fashion."

With that, she swept off, Lady Asterley in her wake, stammering apologies.

Lady Douglas glared at Elizabeth, who now had Darcy and General Wellington on either side of her. She opened her mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it, and stalked away.

Elizabeth's knees buckled in relief and exhaustion, and Darcy caught her around the waist. "I beg of you," General Wellington said loudly, "Lord Darcy, could you please see that your cousin returns home safely at once? She appears to be overcome with grief. Send me your personal assurances that you have ensured her well being."

Darcy nodded gravely.

"And perhaps you would consent to leave Miss Darcy here with me to assist Mrs. Bowes with hostess duties? I am sure Mrs. Bowes would be glad to accompany Miss Darcy home later."

Darcy stood utterly still for a moment, looking at Wellington without expression. Georgiana tugged on his sleeve and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

"Very well," he replied. "Mrs. Bowes, will you be able to keep my sister company?"

Georgiana scowled at him, but Maria Bowes nodded, kissing Elizabeth on the cheek.

Darcy supported Elizabeth on his arm to the carriage, with many sorrowful and sympathetic glances following them out the door.


	20. Chapter 20

_**AN: Sorry this one's a little short. Also, I just figured out that Princess Lieven wasn't a Princess yet by this time period - still a Countess. So I went back and made that correction. RaRa, sorry you find my Lady Douglas motif predictable and/or tedious, but let me explain what I think I'm doing. Three things: first, maybe it won't go where you think it will! Second, though I only know of one infamous incident, it appears the real Lady Douglas was even more beyond the pale! And third, last - I'm just a little fascinated by the role of women at the time. It was pretty miserable, for the most part - Austen makes that clear. At the same time, women had their ways of being powerful, even then... But it had to be through men - so what did that mean for thwarted women, ambitious women, and for men?**_

Inside the carriage, Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cushions.

"Are you well, Elizabeth?" Darcy said quietly. He sat across from her, watching her closely.

She nodded slightly. "I am fine. Just tired, in body and in spirit. I must have spoken to three score people, including two Ministers, and for each one I had to recall my memories of the war and relive anew my grief." She laughed shortly. "Wellington had better receive his money's worth."

Darcy smiled at her. "I have no doubt that he will, and I am in the opposition generally."

"You are a Whig, then?"

"To the extent that I am anything, yes."

Elizabeth mused that it was a sign of how much Darcy had changed over the years, that he would not choose to follow the Tory philosophy of divine right. The Darcy she first met at the Meryton Assembly all those years ago certainly would have. She wondered why she had failed to notice the changes in his perspective; it was not as though they had never seen each other or spoken of politics over the years.

"Is this a recent conversion?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "More a gradual one, I suppose. As I have added industry to my agricultural holdings, it has inevitably affected my views."

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

"But how did Georgiana know that Lady Douglas was troubling me?" Elizabeth suddenly asked. "She was there so quickly, and with one of the few people present whose opinion Caroline actually appears to fear."

"Georgiana espied Lady Douglas in the crowd soon after Wellington summoned you, and she was certain that Lady Douglas would try to find you. Countess Lieven was just a stroke of luck; we happened upon her on our way to you, and she accosted Georgiana. Something about your gown, I believe?"

Elizabeth smiled wanly. "I believe she liked it simply because it was not English. I must say, I fail to understand how she could be a patroness of Almack's with so much distaste for English society."

Darcy chuckled. "Yes, well, by all accounts, she delights in sitting in judgment of others more than she despises the banality of Almack's, and there is surely no better place for the former."

"In any case," Darcy continued, "Georgiana perceived that Countess Lieven was her best weapon against Lady Douglas and immediately began to steer her in your direction." Darcy shook his head. "I am conflicted as to whether Georgiana has spent too much time alone or too much time in London, but she has grown entirely too wily for my liking."

"I believe she may be a match for General Wellington," Elizabeth said as the carriage came to a stop outside her house. Darcy looked at her, startled. "What can you mean by that?" he exclaimed.

Elizabeth met his eyes as he helped her out of the carriage. "Tactics," she said simply. "I am not certain who would emerge victorious if they were in opposition to each other."

Darcy said nothing as he escorted her into the house, but his expression had darkened. "What is it?" she said with concern.

"Nothing," he said briefly. She raised her eyebrows, watching him, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, said with a lightness at odds with her words: "We have lived with misunderstandings between us long enough, Fitzwilliam. I would wish for no more secrets."

He sighed, patting her hand on his arm as they walked into the house. Elizabeth directed Darcy into the sitting room and went to dismiss the servants for the evening, save for her steward, who could admit Miss Darcy and Mrs. Bowes to the house. His discretion was absolute.

"I just hope Wellington does not think I agreed to a quid pro quo of sorts," Darcy said cryptically, when she rejoined him. "It was not my intention to offer up Georgiana in exchange for you."

Elizabeth sank into the settee and looked at him tiredly. "Why must you believe the worst of him? I thought you had come to admire him, at least a little."

"I do admire him, a great deal," Darcy said easily. "But when men are in each other's company, they speak freely of certain things. From what I have heard of Wellington in Gentlemen's Clubs and on a few occasions seen with my own eyes, he is not a man I would leave alone with a woman whose honor I cared about."

"I see," Elizabeth said, and a silence fell between them, as she closed her eyes. "Why did Richard never mention this to me?"

"It is not common for men to share such confidences with women, but I am resolved to be entirely forthcoming with you from now on. Consider this: do you recall that he ever left you alone with Wellington?"

"I suppose not," she said thoughtfully.

"Besides, he saw Wellington when he was at his best. Peacetime does not always play to the strengths of military men: a General on the battlefield  
is not the same as a General in a ballroom. So, while he may well be a genuine national hero, I prefer to stay in view when he is about."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "You need have no concern on my behalf. I am secure in my affections and able to withstand his manly charms."

"Are you?" Darcy commented mildly. "I thought you gave him quite a thorough viewing as he stood at the piano yesterday."

"Impertinent man!" Elizabeth cried, scowling at him.

"Do you deny it, then?"

"Indeed, I do," she responded firmly. "Though there is no harm in looking at the fishmonger's wares as one walks past his shop. One is not obliged to buy the fish."

"Heavens, Mrs. Fitzwilliam!" Darcy guffawed. "Now you sound like the men in the clubs. I had no idea you were so wanton a woman."

"Did you not?" she answered archly. Then her aspect grew more serious. "Please, never doubt me, Fitzwilliam," she said quietly, echoing the words he had said to her in the woods outside Netherfield.

He knelt in front of her, taking her hand and pressing it reverently to his lips. "I believe I shall never doubt you again in my life," he quoted back to her, his eyes hungrily searching hers.

She brushed her fingertips across his cheek and then nodded. They rose, hand in hand, walking up the stairs together.

So it was that Lord Darcy was not in the sitting room, waiting for his sister's return, as he had planned. Nor did he know, when he quietly departed hours later, that his sister had only just slipped in herself, and that it was General Wellington's coach that delivered her to Elizabeth's door.


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: thanks so much for the reviews! Most are really, really helpful! **

It was not surprising that Elizabeth and Georgiana had a late start in departing London. It was nearly noon before they both appeared for breakfast.

Soon after, though, they left for Netherfield, as planned. The carriage was quiet inside as they clattered through the streets. Elizabeth watched the frenetic city display itself as they drove through, wondering if Darcy were even now showing General Wellington blast furnaces and iron castings.

As the crowded streets gave way to fields, she turned to her travel companion. "I heard you come in last night," she said softly.

"Surely, you mean this morning," Georgiana said, yawning and stretching.

"Mrs. Bowes did not accompany you?"

"No," Georgiana agreed. "She wished to go home, shortly after you did, poor thing. But she plans to come and call on you at Netherfield directly. My friend, Lady Spencer, stayed with me until I departed the party."

Elizabeth regarded Georgiana thoughtfully. "Were you with General Wellington the entire time?" she inquired.

"What is it you wish to know, Elizabeth? For you may as well just ask it."

"Your brother thinks that the General is not trustworthy where women are concerned," she finally said.

Georgiana laughed shortly. "I see. And where was my brother when he told you this, I wonder?"

Elizabeth flushed, and Georgiana gave her a guilty look. "I apologize, cousin. I did not mean that. Nothing on this earth could give me greater joy than for my brother to find the happiness that has eluded him for so long, and he is the most honorable of men."

"But I am a woman grown and can look after myself. Fitzwilliam does not need to think my thoughts for me anymore," she finished decisively.

"I just hope you haven't compromised yourself," Elizabeth sighed.

Georgiana gave another short laugh, this one full of bitterness. "Compromised?" she said. "No, Lizzy. It is far too late for that; your brother in law saw to it."

Elizabeth turned pale. "My brother in law? You mean Wickham?" she said in astonishment. "But they were able to stop you in time! There was no harm done!"

Georgiana snorted. "Well, of course there was harm done. What did you think happened, when a man like George Wickham was given unfettered access to a sheltered and infatuated 15 year old girl? And one with a fortune, no less? No, the true harm would have been if I had actually been condemned to spend my life with him, eventually to be abandoned, no doubt. Ruined, broke, and shunned is how I surely would have ended up by the time he was finished with me." She paused, now looking at Elizabeth, without any trace of self pity. "I apologize if my words give you pain, given that your own sister was not so fortunate. But make no mistake, he did, indeed, compromise me." Now she looked down at her hands folded calmly in her lap. "I thought you knew."

"I am so sorry, Georgie. Is that why you have never married?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

Georgiana kept her gaze on her hands, waiting for a time to respond. "At first, perhaps," Georgiana acknowledged. "I was frightened that it might happen again, and I felt powerless." She fell silent, but Elizabeth waited patiently for her to continue. "I gradually recovered my confidence, though, and Fitzwilliam allowed Lady Matlock to present me. You and Richard were away, at the time, but surely she wrote to you of it."

Elizabeth nodded, remembering her mother-in-law's letters full of cheerful, vivid details about all the young men who pursued Georgiana Darcy.

"There have been men I thought I might love, certainly whose company I enjoyed," she recalled. "But no one I could see spending a lifetime with. There has been an insubstantiality to them all. After my aunt died, I just no longer bothered to make appearances at those sorts of social gatherings. I am more likely to attend the salons at Miss Berry's house; I fear my aunt would never have approved of such eccentric company, but I am glad to be relieved of the marriage mart."

She looked out the window thoughtfully. "Perhaps Wickham actually did me a favor, in a fashion," she said. "My father ensured that I would never need to marry for money, and George ensured I would never marry for infatuation. So between them, I have the rare and happy circumstance of being able to live as I please."

Elizabeth was much shocked by Georgiana's speech. She had the odd sensation that she was riding in the carriage with a stranger.

"Please, do not look at me so," Georgiana begged her. "Do not judge me, Lizzy. I do not mean to say that I live outside all bounds of decency and propriety! For the most part, I live a quiet life at Pemberley, caring for my nieces. It is a good life, and I am content; I just feel no need to marry."

Elizabeth offered her cousin a small smile. "I could not judge you, Georgiana, especially given my own conduct of late. I do need to adjust my understanding of who you are, however; you are no longer the shy and timid girl I once knew. Challenges to my preconceptions seem to be a common experience for me of late. I scarcely even know myself these days."They rode in silence for some minutes. "I did not lie with him, Elizabeth," Georgiana finally said in a hushed voice. "Though I confess that I was willing; he said he held me in too high esteem to dally with me. I thought perhaps he did not find me attractive, or perhaps too young and silly. He kissed me in a way that left me with no doubts, however, and it is something I will never forget."

Georgiana looked out the window wistfully. "How unfortunate," she continued, "that I should finally meet a man who appreciates beauty but is unafraid of brutality; whose courage is rooted in self-knowledge, and not in the inconstant view of those around him. Someone who is compelling, in mind and body, and he is some 15 years my senior, married, and off to war."

She turned anxiously to Elizabeth. "You will help me convince Fitzwilliam to allow me to write to him, won't you? I know he will see that as improper, but now that I have found him, I cannot bear to be out of contact."

"From what you have just relayed of your character, I do not see how your brother could stop you!" Elizabeth teased. Seeing Georgiana's stricken expression, she sought to reassure her cousin. "Of course I will speak to him, if you wish it. But have you really grown so attached, in so brief a time?"

Georgiana blushed. "I confess, I have. It was neither expected nor wished for on my part, I assure you."

"And you are aware of his reputation?"

"Quite. It does not trouble me. But I have been selfish; what of you, dear cousin? It seems you and my brother have reached an understanding."

Elizabeth shifted in the seat, not as comfortable with such confidences. "We have," she admitted. "I feel no shame in my feelings or even my actions, but I confess to a considerable amount of confusion in my heart."

She glanced at Georgiana, who did her best to appear neutral.

"Richard is barely cold in his grave, and I am already warming his cousin's bed. It does not feel right, even though it is what he told me to do," she glanced at Georgiana, who looked startled. "Aye, it is true; he told me on his deathbed that he knew of the attachment between your brother and me, and extracted a promise that I would come to him straightaway."

"How is one supposed to feel, when that is a beloved husband's dying wish? I stayed in Lisbon for more than a month after I lost him, pondering that very question. It is no comfort that he was right, and that I have feelings for your brother that are far deeper than I allowed myself to know."

She looked out the window. "I never expected to love anyone but Richard," she said, her voice desolate, "and now I have found that I yearned for someone else all along. It is impossible that I should feel contented by this."

Georgiana moved next to Elizabeth on the seat and wrapped an arm around her waist. They leaned their heads together and rode in silence for the rest of the journey, each lost in her thoughts.

The mood changed considerably when they arrived at Netherfield, with Thomas running out of the house to greet the carriage. He was wild with joy.

"Mama! Mama! You did come back, just as you said you would!" Elizabeth swept her son into her arms, holding him so tightly he began to squirm. He nestled his small head against her neck and wrapped his arms contentedly around her. There was rightness and comfort in the pressure of those small hands on her skin, a love pure and uncomplicated.

"Mama," Thomas said in an exaggerated whisper. "Who is the pretty lady?"

"Oh, forgive me! Dear, this is Miss Georgiana Darcy! She is Uncle Darcy's sister."

Thomas smiled at Georgiana, looking at her through lowered lashes.

Georgiana laughed in delight. "Well met, Thomas! Are you not the charmer? I have not seen you since you were a little baby, and here you are, already flirting with the ladies."

Jane came out to meet them, hugging her sister and friend and bringing them inside. Both were very glad to be in her soothing presence and comfortable home.


	22. Chapter 22

_**AN: Sorry this chapter was a little confusing when it first went up - admittedly, it's because I changed my own mind about what was going on in the woods there and what I was going to depict. I've gone back to edit for clarity. Someday, maybe I will go back and write it with a different rating, but this is where I need to be for now. Some of the action from here on out may shift over to letters. Thank you so much for the reviews - I read them all & find the back and forth very helpful!**_

Darcy arrived mid-afternoon the next day. From the garden, Elizabeth saw his carriage swing into view, but as she rose from her seat to greet him, she noticed that Georgiana was waiting in the drive. Even from a distance, Elizabeth could tell she was anxious. She decided to let the siblings have some time alone.

Over dinner, Darcy regaled the party with his account of General Wellington's visit to his factory, which had started with a surprise: Wellington had brought the new War Minister along with him. After seeing that the factory could produce high quality products faster, in greater quantity, and more cheaply than the government's own munitions makers, the War Minister had commissioned new artillery pieces on the spot. Though the Earl had promised to obtain the funds within the month, Darcy was skeptical that he would ever see the money. Nonetheless, he decided to take the risk. Even if he did not make a profit on the first shipment, he was confident they would clamor for more when they saw the results. Wellington, who understood the chance Darcy was willing to take, was ebullient.

"The man fairly danced with joy," Darcy laughed. "It was quite something to see this dignified general in his stiff, high collar chortling over ingots."

"So, what next, Darcy?" Bingley asked. "Any sense of when you will make your first shipment to the front?"

"Not presently. Wellington left behind one of his ordnance engineers to help with the design of the weapons, and I do believe I will go back to London next week to supervise the production and shipment," he said quietly, glancing at Elizabeth.

"Cousin," he said to her gently, "perhaps I may see to any final arrangements regarding your house while I am in town?"

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she replied. "I would be grateful for your assistance."

He nodded and looked away from her. "I will accompany Georgiana back to Pemberley on the morrow and take care of business there before returning to London."

Elizabeth felt the heat rush up in her face as she realized he was telling her, in front of the entire party, that they would be spending time apart. Though she also understood that his offer of assistance was meant to convey that he would be thinking of her and was not severing their relations.

The women soon retired to the sitting room and the men to their billiards. After some time passed pleasantly, albeit with many uneasy looks from Georgiana, Elizabeth went to check on Thomas. Pausing in the nursery doorway when she heard soft voices, she peeked in to see Darcy sitting by the child's bedside, stroking his forehead.

"Do you think you could go back to sleep now?" she heard him say. She could not discern her son's response, but she heard Darcy murmur that there would be no harm in a few more minutes of story.

"The sea captain harnessed his flock of sea birds to an enchanted phaeton that could pull him through the sky," he began. "He had to be very vigilant, for dragons guarded the cloud castle, and one fiery breath could send his chariot sailing back down to Earth."

"But he never lost faith," she heard him say, "because whenever he looked into the mist, he imagined he saw the faint outlines of the face of the princess. And when the wind blew in his ears, he heard her whispering voice. The raindrops that fell on his brow were her gentle kisses. His love for her gave him courage." Silence fell then, and Elizabeth waited in the hallway.

Darcy emerged, starting when he saw her. "Have you been here long?" he asked.

Elizabeth smiled at him. "Only a few minutes," she whispered. "Thank you for settling him down."

Darcy inclined his head, and they stood there awkwardly, neither sure of what to do.

"I think I shall retire for the evening," Darcy said, clearing his throat.

"Yes," Elizabeth responded quickly, with a curious mix of disappointment and relief. "You must be tired from your travel."

He took her hand and kissed it. "Will I see you in the morning?"

"Of course," she murmured, eyes downcast in confusion. "Good night, Fitzwilliam."

"Good night, Elizabeth." She watched him walk away down the hall for a moment, before giving her head a shake and tiptoeing into the nursery to give her son a kiss. She stayed awhile and watched him as he slept, the peace in his small, sweet face a balm to her heart.

The next morning dawned bright and cool, and Elizabeth awoke early. The servants were still preparing breakfast, so she wrapped a cloak about her shoulders and set out for a walk.

She had not gone far when she heard footsteps. She turned quickly, somewhat dismayed by how intensely she hoped to see Darcy behind her. Her pulse jumped in her throat when she saw it was, indeed, he striding toward her.

Before she could even say good morning, he had pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips hard to hers. The heady rush of sensation nearly overwhelmed her, and her knees wavered.

He pulled away slightly, leaning his forehead against hers and keeping a tight grasp on her waist. She breathed in his scent and savored the feel of him, as she slipped her hands under his coat.

"Georgiana says I need to give you time, even if you do not want me to," he murmured. Elizabeth started to protest, but he spread his fingers across her lips.

"I understand, Elizabeth. I do." They stood embracing silently for a moment, as her heart continued to pound.

"Come, let us walk and spend some time together in privacy before you depart," she said, as he nodded gratefully.

As they walked in silence, they could hear the heavy dew spattering the leaves and ground, along with the creak and groan of the changing season echoing through the woods.

Darcy finally spoke. "I know how to live with the pain of being near you but not with you," he mused. "It was not as though I could go on coveting my cousin's fiancé, after all, and certainly not his wife. I thought surely I could manage that again, to think of you as family for now." He shook his head helplessly. "My resolve to be patient lasted all of a day. Not even a day. Now that hope has fled her confinement, I do not think I can be so near to you without wanting to hold you in my arms." His arm tightened around her waist, and he kissed her temple.

They found a level, mossy spot, and Darcy spread his coat on the ground. They wrapped Elizabeth's cloak around them both, for it was chilly, and held each other wordlessly for a time, her head nestled against his neck.

"When will you go into your confinement?" he asked, his hand gently traveling down her abdomen.

"At the last possible moment, if I have my way," she responded. "I am feeling energetic, and expect to be so quite until it is time – another four months, I believe."

"Will you stay at Netherfield?" he asked wistfully. "I wish you could come to us at Pemberley. Given our family tie, I do not believe it would have been wholly improper before Lady Douglas and her lies."

"But she did not lie," Elizabeth pointed out grimly, "though she, of course, could not know that. And it would be very improper, indeed, unless you wish for all the world to know me as your mistress. I find I am unable to restrain myself where you are concerned, even being with child and in mourning."

She shuddered and blushed, pulling away from him slightly. "And I cannot believe I just said something so forward." She would not meet his eyes.

His hand was warm on her chin, pulling her up to look at him. She met his eyes, and they were full of love and concern, blazing with desire. He kissed her gently, a slow, sweet meeting of their mouths. Elizabeth twined her arms up around his neck and slid her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded with great passion. He winced as he sought to keep his weight off her and his hip pressed into the ground.

Darcy stroked her cheek gently, and then chuckled. "I suppose this rolling about on the ground lacks dignity for a middle aged man, let alone a Member of Parliament," he sighed. "But frankly, I am surprised to find I feel no shame whatsoever."

He looked at her anxiously, afraid that she might not share his sensibilities.

She smiled at him, her hands resting on his chest. "There does not appear to be much that is dignified about middle age, in any case, and no dignity at all in Parliament." He laughed with her. "Do not be concerned, Fitzwilliam," she responded, as she saw he was still watching her apprehensively. "I feel no shame, even though I suppose I should. Though I daresay this is not something I would care to brag about to Countess Lieven over a cup of tea in an Almack's parlor."

He laughed again, but stopped short when he saw worry suddenly flash in her face.

"I do feel a heavy shroud of guilt over my heart, however," she admitted in a rush. "I wish I could promise you that time will dispel it, but I cannot be sure of that."

He looked at her carefully, eyes guarded now, a question hanging on his lips.

"Do you think you can ever be happy with me?" He finally asked, the words tumbling out.

"Why do you think I feel so guilty?" she said softly. "I _am_ happy with you. It just seems wrong to feel that way at all when Richard will never feel anything again." She paused for a moment. "I know I must find my way through this maze for myself."

They lay in each other's arms a bit longer before Darcy exhaled loudly and said, "I suppose we must return to the house now." He stood slowly, helping her to her feet. They both straightened their clothes, inspecting each other's appearance. Elizabeth smirked.

"You are undone, my love," she said, reaching for the button on his breeches.

He pushed her hands away. "It would be self-defeating for you to fix it for me," he commented. He grimaced as he made the adjustments. "Indeed, just the thought of your hands there is adding some difficulty."

"My heavens, Fitzwilliam," she teased. "You have the stamina of a man half your age."

"Indeed, I do," he responded huskily, capturing her in his arms and kissing her soundly. "You would do well to think on that during our separation."

"I most certainly will," she answered.

As they walked back to the house, she finally asked him when she might see him again.

He look at her wistfully. "I will try to stay away a month or more, though I assure you my thoughts will never be far from you," he paused. "If you think it permissible, I will write."

She squeezed his arm. "Of course. That reminds me," she exclaimed. "Georgiana requested that I persuade you to let her correspond with General Wellington..."

He held up his hand and shook his fingers at her. "Yes, I know. He asked me, himself, noting that it would ease his mind during the darkness of the days that lie ahead and reassuring me that he would respect her honor." He sighed heavily. "Against my better judgment, I agreed to it."

"Well, I certainly will allow you to write to me. I will miss you and will also, frankly, be restless. I enjoy the company at Netherfield more than I can express, but admittedly am accustomed to a somewhat more...active environment. Though it is certainly preferable to confinement alone at Chawton House and it is good for Thomas."

He looked at her, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Are you saying you find unrelenting good cheer to be monotonous?" he asked. "I shall have to remember that."

"Oh, it is nothing you need to work at, dear," she teased. "The somber moods come naturally enough to you." He swatted her on the backside as she laughed at him.

"I am by no means sure of that," he whispered in her ear, nibbling at her lobe, "once you are my wife, I fear I will become quite dull with joy."

"Sweet ennui," she agreed.

At breakfast, Darcy and Elizabeth did not trouble to hide the nature of their attachment, and their friends and family showed no sign they noticed anything improper.

Although they all delayed the departure as long as possible, the time finally came for the Darcys to leave. Embracing Elizabeth as she prepared to step into the coach, Georgiana began to weep. "I am so sorry," she sobbed. "It was my idea that he leave, and it is a terrible idea - I cannot bear it."

Elizabeth hugged her cousin, kissing her on the cheek. "Dear, dear Georgiana. Do not doubt yourself; you were right. Now you must dry your tears, for we will both need you to be strong for us. Please do come and visit me soon, and I hope you will bring the girls."

Georgiana promised to visit and to write, dabbing the tears from her face as she settled into the soft seats of the coach.

Elizabeth turned to Darcy then, and they just looked at each other, having already communicated everything that could be said. He jumped abruptly into the coach, riding away without looking back.


	23. Chapter 23

_**AN: Apologies for the delay! I also went back and cleaned up the last chapter. Thank you so much for all the feedback.**_

Elizabeth quickly settled into a pleasant routine of domesticity, playing with the children and assisting her sister with the management of the household. There was ample time for her to indulge in her customary entertainments of walking and reading, as well. The evenings she spent in quiet conversation with Jane and Charles, who were soothing companions for her wounded spirit.

The first letter from Darcy arrived only a few days after his departure. It was a fairly dry recitation of his business at Pemberley. "The wheat harvest was up this year by a margin exceeding 20 bushels," he noted, "but the productivity showed considerable variation across the tenants. It leads one to question if it is a difference in fecundity of the land, cultivation techniques, or perhaps the most ineffable of variables, the men involved."

Yes, she though wryly, men can be quite ineffable.

"The factory has already started making products for General Wellington. Not what one would expect, however; he ordered that tin cooking pots and special tin camp stoves be made first. Apparently, an Army needs hot food even more than it needs bullets."

Her amusement deepened when another, much shorter letter arrived the very next day, the script itself so slanted with urgency it seemed to be running for the edge of the page. "My Dearest Elizabeth," it began, "It has occurred to me that my last letter was perhaps inarticulate." Elizabeth smiled inwardly, thinking that it likely occurred to Georgiana once she figured out he had written and pressed him for details.

"I find that I am woefully unprepared for committing my feelings to paper," he wrote, "never having attempted such a thing. My sister has enlightened me," Elizabeth allowed herself an open smile this time, "that it may be disappointing for a lady to receive a letter from an admirer which drones on about bushels of wheat."

"The truth is that the thought of your fine eyes looking on my meager words only deepens my inability to express myself. Indeed, I find I am strangely jealous of the letters themselves; no matter how inadequate they may be, as they will have the privilege of holding your gaze, and soon. I am envious of the paper, too, which will feel the touch of your hands in a matter of days."

"It is irrational, I know, to resent inanimate objects, so perhaps instead I should imagine that it is not paper that you hold, but my hands in yours; that it is my lips and not my words on your lips."

She paused, drawing in a shaky breath.

"If I close my eyes, I can indeed imagine it, how it would feel to be touching your fingers and tasting your lips. I can almost catch your scent, of lavender and sunshine and something indescribably sweet that is only yours. When I open my eyes, though, alas, like poor Orpheus, the wisps of my remembered love retreat, intangible and beyond my grasp. How can I endure this, Lizzie, even for an hour, let alone a month or more? For I was not truthful when I last saw you: I never did learn to live without you."

Elizabeth wrote back to him immediately, though her letter was neither as mundane as his first nor as sensual as his second. She wrote instead of all the things she would wish to tell him or show him, if he had been by her side - how she liked the Hume writings, about the big trout she had discovered hiding in a hollow behind a river rock down the path behind the house. About the feeling of familial contentment around the fire in the cool autumn evening, or the sweet comfort of her child's trusting hand in her own. She finished simply: "I look forward to the day when I share all of these things with you in body as I do now every day in spirit." His subsequent letters followed the course she plotted; an account of the day-to-day life he hoped to share with her someday, though he avoided discussions of specific crop yields and sometimes employed language that some might have considered quite scandalous.

Elizabeth visited Longbourn every other day. Though Mr. Bennet enjoyed debating the politics of the day with her and talking of poetry, it was most often Mary who discussed the matters of the estate with her, among other topics. This was especially true when Thomas came along, as Mr. Bennet generally preferred to play with the child.

"Did you not recently attend a ceremony in London in honor of General Wellington?" Mary asked one afternoon, frowning at the paper.

"I did," Elizabeth responded. "He was Richard's commander for many years - he is a great man."

"Well, the papers have turned against him," Mary commented. "He has had some reversals of fortune in Spain. But I believe they are being rather unfair." She made a harrumphing noise. "Fickle creatures. A month ago they were all but hailing him Caesar."

Elizabeth sighed. "What do they find to be his particular offense?"

"A failed siege at Burgos - too many casualties."

It became a regular habit for them to discuss the progress of the war, for Mary was eager to hear Elizabeth's firsthand knowledge of both the circumstances of the Peninsular campaign and the British forces.

They took turns sitting with Mrs. Bennett, who seemed to dwindle by the day. Sometimes she knew Elizabeth and sometimes not. One day, as she read to her mother, Elizabeth could not help noticing her intent and sad regard.

"What is the matter, Mama?" she asked, closing the book.

"He is gone, is he not, Lizzie?"

"Who, Mother dear?"

"Richard," her mother said quietly. "He is gone."

Startled, Elizabeth just stared at her mother, who waited for her daughter to answer. Elizabeth looked down at her hands folded over the book in her lap, smoothing the cover with her fingertips.

"Yes, Mama. He is gone."

"Did you drive him away, Lizzie? Were you not a good wife to him? You always were too proud."

Elizabeth gasped. "Mama! That is a terrible thing to say! It is nothing of the sort."

Her mother's hands scrabbled at the sheet, and she sighed. "Then what is it, child? What has happened?"

"He died, Mama. He was killed in the war."

She watched her mother closely as it was difficult to predict how such news might strike her in her current state. It might prompt no reaction at all, or it might lead to copious weeping about the similar demise sure to strike Mr. Bennet down at any moment.

"I am very sorry for you, my girl," her mother said softly, stroking her hand with trembling fingers, "to be a widow so young. He was a good man, Lizzy. He was. I am sorry I will not be here to help you with the children."

"Oh, Mama," she cried, tears stinging her eyes, "of course, you will be here! You musn't say such things."

Mrs. Bennet shook her head slightly. "No, no - it is nearly my time now." She was silent for a moment. "Lizzy, will you promise me something?"

Elizabeth nodded, biting her lip.

"I cannot say that I have always understood you, Lizzy, but I know you to be practical. Please look after your sister - my Lydia. She is a good girl, but she lacks your common sense." Mrs. Bennet sighed. "How I miss my Lydia!" she closed her eyes, and Elizabeth stood to leave and let her sleep.

"You will, Lizzy? You promise?" She pressed in a tremulous whisper.

"Yes, Mama. I promise."

"And Elizabeth," her mother said, eyes still closed, "'Tis no dishonor to the dead to go on with your life."

Lizzy's eyes filled again, but before she could comment, her mother managed to have the last word, as usual.

"I have always thought that proud Mr. Darcy fancied you," she commented before dropping off to sleep. Elizabeth stood speechless in the door for a moment, wondering if perhaps her mother understood her far better than either of them knew.

That very afternoon, Elizabeth wrote to Lydia and bade her come at once. "Mama is quite ill," she noted, "and longs to see you. Make haste, sister, for she does not have much time."

Mrs. Bennet would die without seeing Lydia again, however, some four weeks later.

In her last two weeks, Mrs. Bennet was not lucid and rarely conscious, her breathing increasingly labored. They did not need the doctor to tell them that she was in her final death throes, but Mr. Bennet nonetheless refused to discuss any funeral arrangements with his daughters. It was left to Mary, Jane, and Elizabeth, therefore, to arrange a meeting with the undertaker from Meryton.

"I suppose Mama would want quite a grand funeral," Elizabeth mused one afternoon in the kitchen at Longbourn.

"Oh believe me," Mary noted dryly, "she has left quite detailed instructions for us. She wants four black horses to pull a fine black carriage, silk draping, a white pillow for her head, and a veritable flock of ostrich feathers."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but then composed her face in a more serious expression. "We will, of course, give her the style and station that are her due," she said quietly, "but I would not wish to drain you and Papa of resources."

Mary smiled at her tightly. "Not to worry, sister," she said. "We have managed to increase the estate's fortunes in recent years. We can well afford a gentlewoman's funeral."

And so they made the arrangements for the funeral, while Mr. Bennet retreated helplessly to his study. The sisters planned for the Gardiners to stay at Netherfield, while Kitty and her family would stay at Longbourn. Georgiana wrote that she and her brother would come, and they were, of course, also invited to stay at Netherfield. Mr. Collins insisted on traveling at once, before Mrs. Bennet had even died, along with Charlotte and their two daughters, and they naturally would be at Lucas Lodge. Elizabeth privately mused that Mr. Collins would be doing her father a greater kindness by staying away, but it was not to be helped, and Elizabeth would be glad to see Charlotte, in any case.

No one heard a word from Lydia until she showed up at Longbourn, unannounced, the day before the funeral, with three of her children in tow. Breezing into the front parlor, she discarded her pelisse and bonnet on the couch, saying: "Ah, there you are Lizzie, Mary! It s good to see you both." She fanned her face dramatically. "La, but I am exhausted from my journey. There, Mary, be a good girl and put my things away for me. There are trunks out in the yard, as well. I will stay in Mama's rooms."

Elizabeth and Mary stared at her in disbelief. Recovering first, Elizabeth scowled at her younger sister. "I do not suppose you would like to see your mother? We have laid her out in the sitting room and will be receiving visitors tomorrow, but you may certainly spend some time with her today, if you like."

Lydia sighed, putting a hand over her heart. "How serious you are, Lizzy! I will see her directly, of course. But for now, I shall require some rest. Will you please see that my trunks are brought to the room?" And with that, she swept up the stairs, leaving her speechless sisters and three children behind.

"What are your names?" Mary finally enquired, turning to the children, far more gently than Elizabeth would have thought possible of her.

"I am Henriette," the biggest girl said, "and this is Catherine and Henry," she whispered. The girl could be no more than seven, with the other girl a bit younger and the boy little more than a toddler.

"Are you hungry?" Mary asked, holding out her hand to the child, whose eyes grew wide as she nodded. "Good. All of your shall come with me to the kitchen, and we will get you some food – I think cook is just taking bread out of the oven. There will be time to see to your luggage." The children looked gratefully at their aunt and moved after her obediently, as Ellzabeth was left to shake her head.


	24. Chapter 24

Lydia came downstairs later to find Kitty waiting for her. The two sisters had not seen each other for nearly a year, but they fell into each other's arms immediately, both bursting into tears and wailing loudly. Mary and Elizabeth left them to their grief and went to meet the undertaker at the church, poring through the details with him one last time. Their father did not accompany them, even for these final arrangements.

They had first gone to see the undertaker shortly before Mrs. Bennet succumbed to her illness. Although the presence of an undertaker in Meryton was a fairly new occurrence, Mrs. Bennet had been quite specific about her wishes in that regard, likely not trusting her daughters to get the details just right.

The undertaker was something of a dandy. Indeed, the townspeople thought him the height of fashion, with his pristine, nearly architectural cravat and knee-length breeches, a briefly popular look in London some six seasons before. The fact that a round belly poked out over his snug breeches only magnified the effect, speaking to his success at his trade, which he modestly attributed to the great many deaths in the area.

The undertaker did not know the Bennets personally, being fairly new to Meryton, but had clearly done his research. He had an accurate understanding of their finances. When he heard that three women would be representing the family, a circumstance generally to be avoided, a gleam lit his eyes. This did not go unnoticed.

"Mark my words," Mary said sourly, "that man will try to cheat us."

"I should like to see him try," Elizabeth responded with a grim smile.

"We have no reason to think this man will try to take advantage," Jane protested. "He seemed very sympathetic and kind, very refined. If you are so concerned, however, perhaps Charles could speak to him on our behalf and ensure our interests are protected in this."

Mary actually snorted. Elizabeth gently suggested Jane stay at home with Charles when they went to discuss the costs. She looked a little hurt but readily agreed, as she was well aware that neither she nor her husband drove a hard bargain.

The next day, Mary and Elizabeth were proven right in their suspicions. The undertaker's proposal was rife with excessive costs. Mary did not seem distraught, however; if anything, she appeared to be invigorated.

"Excuse me," Mary said, "but this must have been written down incorrectly. The black silk draping is 28% above the price at the merchant house." She paused. "And the coffin is double what the carpenter usually charges for oak. No, no, no," she exclaimed, making a sound of disgust, "not the Lucas horses - they are not true black, although you have the price as such."

She turned suddenly to Elizabeth. "You have just returned from living in London," Mary remarked, with studied nonchalance. "What was the percentage for undertakers there?"

"5%," Elizabeth responded promptly. '"Even Edwards and Son, who serve the wealthiest families in Mayfair, only charge 5%." She did not see the need to point out that Edwards and Son's 5% commission was worth quite a bit more than a Meryton 5%, given the quality of the goods and services London's elite would expect. Why be fair with a man who sought to cheat them?

At first, the undertaker seemed stunned, staring open-mouthed at the two women. Then his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. "Are you questioning my honor?" he huffed at Mary.

"No," she replied calmly. "Only your arithmetic."

His face grew quite red at that point and his jowls shook at them indignantly as he reached for his hat. "Perhaps, then, you would care to make your own arrangements."

Elizabeth put a finger to her lips and cocked her head to the side, as though she were considering this offer. "I suppose we could, Mary," she said thoughtfully. "We are certainly well acquainted with the carpenter, the merchants, and the pastor. But it would be such a shame to detract from our grief for Mama in this fashion." She sighed loudly and noted the prematurely satisfied look on her quarry's face. "Perhaps we should just speak to Lord Darcy. I believe he mentioned in his last letter that there are at least two undertakers in Lambton, one of whom he knows quite well, as he handled the arrangements for Lady Darcy not so long ago. He believes they would not object to business in this area, despite the distance involved. Perhaps we should just stop wasting this poor gentleman's time?"

He paled at her words. The local community was only just accepting the utility of an undertaker, having been satisfied previously with relatively plain funerals. He clearly did not wish to risk bringing in any new competition.

"Fine," he replied, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I see my professional judgment is meaningless to you ladies. What arrangement would you find satisfactory?"

In the end, they negotiated him down to a 3% commission, with a commitment on their part to extol his services to all of their neighbors and friends. At that point, Jane took over in all discussions of the particularities with him, and her charms and good humor completely won him over, swiftly erasing any ill will he may have harbored toward the other Bennet sisters. Indeed, Jane judged that he may well have lost money on the flowers, given the extraordinary lengths he went to in order to procure fresh blossoms in December.

And so, the afternoon before the funeral, both the undertaker and the Bennets were satisfied. Mrs. Bennet would have all the grandeur she had asked for, but at a very reasonable price. The undertaker would be able to showcase his skill in arranging a sumptuous occasion to some of the most prominent families in the region. Not only that, but many attendees likely held the view that Mr. Bennet, while a gentleman, was of relatively modest means, which would only raise their opinion of the undertaker's skill. Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with amusement when she overheard the man gloating to the pastor of his great acumen in securing such a deal.

It was a subdued household at dinner that night, however. Mary and Elizabeth were tired from the last minute adjustments, and Kitty and Lydia were red-eyed, faces swollen with weeping. Kitty's husband, Mr. Smith, generally a reserved young man, was quietly thinking over what he planned to say the next day in church. Elizabeth had managed to persuade the local pastor to allow Mr. Smith to preside over the service, although this had cost a considerable sum in addition to the burial fee. Her true motive was to ensure that Mr. Collins did not prevail upon the pastor to allow him to speak. Her brother-in-law was prepared to be firm in the face of any pressure, and the pastor was content to be the beneficiary of Christian charity.

Mr. Bennet seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, retiring to his library immediately upon finishing his meal. Mary quietly followed him.

"Kitty," Lydia said softly, "would you and Edward mind very much if I had a private word with Lizzy?" All three looked at her in surprise, as much at her quiet and respectful tone as at her actual request.

"Not at all," Kitty said quickly. "I believe, in fact, that we would both welcome an excuse to retire early." She blushed furiously when she saw her husband's embarrassed look. "We are both quite tired," she said hurriedly, "that is what I mean to say."

The couple looked even more mortified, if that were possible, when Lydia giggled and raised an eyebrow suggestively. They rose and retreated from the room quickly.

"Well," Lydia sighed, a smile still tugging at one corner of her mouth, "at least I know how to get rid of them quickly the next time they pay me a visit."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at Lydia's coarseness, and Lydia scowled slightly at her. "Still see yourself as quite the proper lady, don't you Lizzy?" she said coldly. Lydia dropped her scowl quickly, however, with a light shrug and an easy grin. "Don't they have anything decent to drink in this place?" she asked, getting up and looking around the shelves. "You there," she said to a serving girl clearing dishes, "bring us some port and two glasses."

"That's fine, Anna," Elizabeth said, nodding at the startled girl. "You can let Mrs. Hill know." The girl scurried off.

"What is it you wish to discuss with me, Lydia?" Elizabeth inquired, doing her best to sound sisterly.

"We are simple folk, in Bath," Lydia began slowly, as Mrs, Hill set the port in front of her, "compared to London." She took a sip of her drink, not taking her eyes off Elizabeth. "Leave us," she snapped at the servants, waiting until they left the room.

"As I was saying, we may be rustics, but even we hear things in Bath," she said, eying Elizabeth with interest.

"Such as?" Elizabeth prompted impatiently.

"It has come to my attention that a much-admired General has formed an attachment with a certain widow. Well, maybe not as much admired - he is said to be losing too many battles now, but still, a powerful man."

Elizabeth looked at Lydia in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, a Mrs. Fitzwilliam, they say, has become the General's latest conquest. People say he even brought her to the battlefield to gird his loins for him, so to speak." Lydia leered at Elizabeth, who jumped up angrily.

"How dare you," she whispered, fists clenched. Lydia's face fell, and she reached up to put a restraining hand on her sister's arm.

"It is not true, then?" she asked, urgency displacing the mocking tone in her voice.

"Of course not," Elizabeth said scornfully.

Lydia dropped her hand and sighed heavily. "That is too bad," she said.

"Too bad?" Elizabeth said indignantly. "Too bad that your own sister is not little more than a courtesan? What must you think of me!"

Now it was Lydia's turn to look scornful. "You don't realize your own predicament, do you?" She made a sharp cutting motion with her hand. "You would do well to lose some of that pride, Lizzy," she said with considerable bitterness, "because a woman without a man can ill afford it."

"Besides," she continued more brightly, "you could do far worse than General Wellington. He is quite handsome and must have at least £20,000 a year. His wife is not beautiful and better still, she stays in the country."

Elizabeth sat down heavily. "Lady Douglas said something about you giving yourself away. It is true, then? What have you done, Lydia?"

A hard expression settled over Lydia's delicate features, adding decades to her 25 years. "Lady Douglas is hardly in a position to cast stones," she retorted, staring at Lizzy in silence. "I owe you no explanations," she finally continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I do as I like - and as I must. But tell me, are you or are you not acquainted with General Wellington?"

"I am," Elizabeth finally said. "Though not in the way you suggested. He was Richard's commander, and they were close."

"When did you last see him?" Lydia asked.

"Right before I came here - a fortnight ago now. He requested that war widows attend a ceremony in his honor."

"And are you able to write to him?"

"I imagine so. Here, Lydia," Elizabeth said impatiently, "will you just tell me what you want?"

Lydia poured herself another glass of port and sat back in her chair. "I need your help," she said flatly. "George is in the American campaign, so far away and with little chance for advancement or any prize money worth mentioning. There is little glory to be had there. I want him transferred to Europe, to Wellington's army. He will do better there - my patron in Bath confirms that."

"Your patron?" Elizabeth cried in dismay.

"It pays the creditors, Lizzy, as you will no doubt soon discover for yourself. But it is of no consequence: I wish to see George in a better situation. Will you help me?"

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, thinking of her mother in the next room and the promise she had exacted before she died. It did not seem wise to disclose that to Lydia.

"What do you want me to do?" she said, sighing in resignation.

"I want you to ask General Wellington to take him on, onto his personal staff."

Elizabeth winced. "Lydia," she began slowly, "consider what you are asking. Just yesterday, the newspapers reprinted an order General Wellington sent to his officers in Spain last month upbraiding them for lax discipline. He said he hanged two men for shooting pigs in the woods and will arrest any officer whose men are absent on the march. There was much hue and cry about the harshness of his words, but I can tell you from my own observation that this merely reflects his longstanding views. He is a strict disciplinarian. I do not believe George would fare well under him."

"George is a good soldier," Lydia said shrugging her shoulders.

"I am sure he looks splendid in his uniform," Elizabeth said sarcastically.

"He does, indeed," she responded, eyes glittering. "Are you going to help me or not?" she asked.

Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. "As long as you understand the risk - they just hanged a man for _shooting a pig_, Lydia. George's proclivities will not go unnoticed." Lydia said nothing. "Very well. I will need to know his regiment and his current whereabouts," Elizabeth said quietly.

Lydia smiled, draining her cup in a single swallow. "I knew I could count on you, Lizzy. You always were so dependable," she said with a giggle. With that, Lydia kissed her sister wetly on the cheek and swept from the room.

Elizabeth shook her head, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. With an enormous yawn, she went to find Mrs. Hill before retiring for the evening. The next day would be a long one, and Elizabeth was anxious to get some sleep - and put her troubling conversation with Lydia out of mind.

Sleep, however, would prove to be elusive.

The dream always started the same. She was lost in a sere and blistering landscape, striped with the ragged shadows of carrion birds that wheeled through a bleak sky. Her lips were dry and cracked, perspiration stinging her eyes.

"Richard!" she called desperately into the blazing sun, but there was no answer. Some nights, the dream would end there, either because she woke up or settled more deeply asleep or dreamed of other things.

Some nights, the dream went on, and that was never a good thing. Tonight, the dream went on, and it was definitely not good.

A hot dry wind lifted her hair and blew dust into her eyes. She shaded her brow with her hand and looked about, and then she saw it: a person, reclining in the bleached grass on a ridge line ahead. A sense of dread clenched her heart but she felt compelled to approach.

As she came to the top of the hill, she could see it was a corpse, bloated and blackened from the sun.

Suddenly, the corpse turned its head and stared at her with empty eyes. "Promise," it hissed, as the sour taste of fear flooded her mouth. "Promise!" the hideous thing said again, louder this time. She turned and fled, stumbling down the hill, as the corpse howled after her: "Promise!"

She woke with a start, gasping. Shaking and soaked through with sweat, she sat up and tried to slow her breathing. Elizabeth listened quietly for a moment, hoping she had not cried out and awakened anyone. The house remained eerily quiet.

She was staying at Longbourn tonight, in the room she had grown up in with Jane. Usually, the worn familiarity of it was a comfort; the crack in the wall over the door, the linen press that would never quite close, the loose floorboard - they were old friends. Tonight, however, the room seemed full of sinister shadows and dangerous secrets. She shuddered and got up, pulling her dressing gown around her as she went to the window. The moon had already set, so dawn could not be too far off. Elizabeth decided she would just stay up, given that the day would be very busy with the funeral and all of the guests.

As she dressed slowly, Elizabeth wondered about the nightmare. Surely it was a product of the fact that her mother's body was just below in the sitting room. Or was it the imminent arrival of Fitzwilliam Darcy? She rubbed her fingers wearily across the bridge of her nose and thought ruefully that it was likely both.

And then there was Lydia, who had already unknowingly called Mrs. Bennet's promissory note due. Elizabeth was very uneasy about the prospect of George Wickham working for General Wellington at her request, but now she felt duty bound to at least ask.

She bowed her head for a moment and then left the room to start what promised to be a trying day.


	25. Chapter 25

_**Back again! Thanks for the reviews - really appreciate it. This chapter focuses on the funeral and the reunion. Lady Douglas and George Wickham will be reappearing before too long... Let me know what you like and don't like! And I have gone back and reposted this - noticed some typos, and I added a couple of small details...**_

The guests began arriving for the visitation mid-morning, with the Lucas family being among the first to arrive.

"Lizzy!" Charlotte exclaimed embracing her warmly. "Dear, dear Lizzy. I am so sorry."

"Cousin," Mr. Collins said gravely. "I am sorry for your loss. Your mother was a great woman. The very picture of refinement and grace, and such wit. Good Lord," he said abruptly, staring over the top of his glasses at her swollen midsection. "I thought your husband was deceased."

"Mr. Collins!" his wife said sharply.

He jumped, as though she had prodded him with a fireplace poker.

"Yes, yes, my dear. Quite right. Quite right. Well, I should see after Mr. Bennet." The preacher hurried across the room to where Mr. Bennet was unsuccessfully trying to hide in the window seat.

"Sorry for that," Charlotte muttered, not bothering to hide her irritation. "We discussed his comportment many times before I agreed he could come today."

"It is no matter," Elizabeth said with a tired smile. "I suspect many people today will be wondering the same thing."

"But not many will have the ill manners to say it out loud," Charlotte said with a grimace. "How are you, truly, Lizzy?"

"I am fine, dear Charlotte. Of course, I miss Richard and dearly wish he had lived to see his child born. But I am fine, all things considered. And you? I have not seen you for two years now - not since your father passed. Are you...well?" she asked, her eyes on Mr. Collins as he trailed Mr. Bennet around the room, actually stepping on the older man's heels.

Charlotte settled into the conversation, her hands resting contentedly on her ample waist. She spoke of her garden, her two young daughters, the parish in Kent, in short, anything but her husband.

"And Lady Catherine?' Elizabeth could not help but inquiring.

Charlotte looked at her curiously. "Did you not hear the news?" she asked. "I thought you would, since she was a relation. She died in her sleep, around the same time my father did." Elizabeth was shocked to hear of it, as that would mean that Richard never told her his aunt had passed away. Why would he not even tell her? Lady Catherine had never approved entirely of their marriage, and as a result, they had seen little of her, but she was still family.

"I am sorry to hear it," Elizabeth responded. "How does Anne, then?'

"Well enough," Charlotte responded. "Miss de Bourgh is a very cultured and kind lady, but still not entirely healthy. She will clearly not marry, I suppose, and her cousin, Lord Darcy, all but runs the estate." Elizabeth started and blushed at the mention of his name, but Charlotte did not notice. Wistfully, Elizabeth thought that the Charlotte she had known as a girl would have noticed. "We are not as much at Rosings as we were when Lady Catherine was alive," Charlotte continued. "But you should see the new decorations in my parlor, Lizzy!" Elizabeth smiled politely, made expressions of interest and encouragement as appropriate, but soon excused herself to see to other guests.

The room filled with well-wishers, and Elizabeth swirled among them. Mary was standing guard next to Mr. Bennet, both to protect him from over-enthusiastic expressions of grief and to prevent him from fleeing the scene. Lydia was holding forth to a rapt audience, her Aunt Phillips matching her tear for tear. Elizabeth suspected they had both been into the sherry. Kitty, however, stood on the other side of the room quietly talking to a gentleman from a nearby farm, with her husband's hand on her elbow. Jane and Charles were sitting with the Gardiners, and the undertaker managed to be absolutely everywhere.

Elizabeth knew the moment Fitzwilliam Darcy walked into the room, even before the conversations lulled and the looks darted toward the doorway. It was as though the air in the room thickened and whispered along the nerve endings on her arms and the back of her neck. She noticed that her father brightened as his illustrious guest approached. "Lord Darcy," her father said warmly, "you honor us with your presence. Miss Darcy." Elizabeth was not close enough to hear what Darcy murmured in response, but there was no mistaking the emotion in her father's voice. "You are too kind, sir. Far too kind. Allow me to introduce you to our family and neighbors." Elizabeth clenched her teeth and fervently hoped her father would be selective about which family he introduced.

She need not have worried, however. Soon after the Darcy siblings arrived, Lydia loudly complained of nerves and retired to her room to rest.

She was too busy watching Lydia depart to notice her father's approach. "Of course, you know my daughter, Elizabeth," he said, right behind her. She turned, startled, and her heart nearly stopped when her eyes met Darcy's.

He said something, and she thought her father said something, too, but she just stood there, locked in place.

Georgiana broke the spell by embracing her suddenly.

"Elizabeth!" she cried loudly, followed by a soft murmur in her ear. "Are you well? You look faint."

Elizabeth shook herself and returned the embrace gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered, "I will be fine now." Pulling back, she smiled at her father, who looked concerned, and then at Lord Darcy, careful not to look directly into his eyes again.

"Cousins," she said warmly. "Thank you so much for coming so far to offer us comfort."

"Wild horses could not have prevented us from being at your side, dear Cousin," Georgiana said, with delicate asperity. Her brother shot her an annoyed look, but quickly schooled his face into a neutral half-smile, the sort of expression that likely served him well in London society.

"Elizabeth," her father said worriedly, "I fear I have placed too many burdens on you of late. You look quite overcome. Will you not sit down and take your ease until it is time to go to church?"

"Yes," Georgiana said quickly. "You clearly need to be off your feet. My brother and I would be delighted to keep you company."

"Thank you, Miss Darcy," Mr. Bennet responded. "That is most kind of you. My library might be a more restful place to sit." He held out his arm and guided Georgiana out of the room. Darcy followed suit, offering Elizabeth his arm, which she took, with a gentle brush of her fingers across his hand. Neither spoke a word, but she stole a look at him from the corner of her eye. His chin was pointed out, shoulders stiff, and his eyelids were half down, as though there were no one in the room worth seeing. But Elizabeth did not miss the two spots of color, high on his cheeks. He held her arm tightly to his side.

"Now, Elizabeth," her father said as he paused at the door, "my collection is very modest compared to Mr. Darcy's marvelous library at Pemberly, but hold nothing back. Please share all my treasures with him." He frowned at her flushed face, crossing the room to kiss her on the cheek. "On second thought," he said, "I am afraid I must prevail upon you Lord Darcy, Miss Darcy, to ensure my daughter rests herself."

"I will care for her," Darcy said, and then proceeded to flush as well.

Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows, glancing at Miss Darcy, who was clearly suppressing laughter. "I daresay you will," he commented, leaving the room with a small smile of his own.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Georgiana broke into helpless laughter. "I know this is not a joyous occasion, and I apologize. But oh my, the two of you should certainly never try to keep any secrets!" Her brother scowled at her and then ignored her as he guided Elizabeth to the settee.

"I do believe there is an utterly fascinating book right next to the door," Georgiana announced, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. She proceeded to the door and selected a book, turning her back to the room.

Elizabeth gave Darcy a rueful smile. "I apologize," she said. "I did not expect to be so..." She was unable to finish her sentence as Darcy leaned swiftly forward and kissed her, pulling her into his arms. She did not hesitate to return his kiss, which quickly grew almost frantic in its intensity. When they finally pulled apart slightly, she realized she was actually now in his lap, cradled against his chest. She listened to his wild heartbeat as his arms tightened around her. Neither spoke.

Finally, she whispered, "How long will you be able to stay?"

"Only two days," he rumbled softly. "Parliament is in session - I have to get back to London."

"Oh," she responded in a small voice. They sat silently for a few minutes. "I do not wish you to leave me again," she confessed.

He made an inarticulate noise and covered her neck and face with kisses.

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana said urgently, "someone is coming!"

Elizabeth gasped but did not quite succeed in disentangling herself before the door slowly opened. Georgiana tried to block the view into the room.

Fortunately, it was only Jane. "Georgiana," she said warmly, embracing the younger woman. "It is so good to see you. My father sent me to tell you it is nearly time to go to the church." She peered over Georgiana's shoulder and smiled at the disheveled state of the room's other occupants. "When you are ready, of course." Both Jane and Georgiana giggled, which clearly annoyed Darcy and embarrassed Elizabeth.

"Oh hush," Elizabeth scolded her, smoothing her hair with her hands.

"Good to see you, too, Fitzwilliam," Jane smiled.

"And you, Mrs. Bingley," he said, with pointed formality, which only broadened her smile.

"Now, Fitzwilliam," she chided him, eyes twinkling, "just be glad I did not allow Charles to fetch you, because he certainly wanted to." Darcy sighed and offered Elizabeth one arm and Georgiana the other.

"How is it that I have the misfortune to be surrounded by impertinent women?" he grumbled.

"I daresay you are very fortunate to be surrounded by impertinent women," Elizabeth retorted.

"I daresay I am," he said softly, looking down at her. Georgiana cleared her throat loudly when their gaze lingered a bit too long, as they were emerging into a throng of carriages and curious eyes.

Darcy escorted Elizabeth to the Bennet family's carriage, holding her hand as long as possible while she climbed in.

"Are you quite well, my dear?" her father asked anxiously, once she settled herself. Elizabeth reached across and took his hand. "Please do not concern yourself, Papa. A few minutes of rest did me some good. I am fine." She met Mary's eyes, and they gave each other a wan smile. They would both be glad when the day was done. At least it was quiet in the carriage, and they could all take a moment to recover, as Lydia had chosen to ride with the Bingleys. Kitty was looking forlornly out the window at the draped carriage in front of them, clearly missing her husband as much as her mother. He had gone ahead to the church to prepare himself for the service.

At the church, the Darcys sat in the pew behind the Bennet family, and Darcy made sure to seat himself such that he could watch Elizabeth, who could feel his eyes on her throughout the service. Her own eyes moved around the church restlessly, but everything looked perfect. She noted with pleasure that the white flowers on the altar and on top of the coffin glowed beautifully in the afternoon light, and thought to compliment the undertaker most lavishly about them. Elizabeth let the sounds of the prayers and hymns wash over her, finally focusing on the soothing voice of her brother-in-law as he settled into his eulogy.

"We are here to grieve the passing of our mother, wife, sister, friend, and neighbor. Our lives will be the poorer for her absence, for she was the tie that bound her family together, with a joy for life and compulsion for gaiety," he stopped and cleared his throat nervously. "Frances Gardiner Bennet had a good life - she leaves five wonderful daughters, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, my own dear wife Catherine, and Lydia, who are all here today with us. She also leaves 12 grandchildren, a sister and a brother, and a loving, patient husband, who will long mourn her loss.

For all the hurly burly of life, the sorrows, the joys, the pain, the disappointments, the fears and hopes, the loss and love, the burdens of the past we carry and the visions of the future we pine for, it all falls gently away before the perfection of death.

Yes, death is perfect, because that is when we finally know our Lord and live only for his love. And so let it be some comfort, that this dearly departed soul, as all our beloveds who have gone before, they do not grieve for us. They celebrate His glory, secure in the knowledge that we will someday join them. Grief belongs to the living; and so be generous and kind with kith and kin, for we only have each other for comfort. Only the dead truly know the comfort of God.

So let us pray together..."

The mourners murmured along with the prayers and sang a hymnal, and then the pall bearers rose. As Elizabeth shuffled out behind the coffin, Mr. Collins's voice carried clearly across the crowd. "That was a most unconventional eulogy," he sniffed. "It lacked the dignity one would see with a more experienced member of the clergy." She was close enough to hear Charlotte hiss that he should "stop all speech this instant."

They all stood in front of the church, watching as the coffin was loaded into the carriage. This was really just a formality, as the burial would be in the churchyard just behind the church, but Mrs. Bennet left instructions that she was to be loaded back into the silk-covered carriage before her guests walked past. Only her father, brothers-in-law, and uncles would attend the actual burial. As the guests left the churchyard, Elizabeth and her sisters thanked them and presented small, wrapped funeral cakes. Darcy stood beside her with Georgiana until the last guests were gone.

"You will come back to Netherfield tonight?" he asked quietly.

"After dinner at Longbourn," she said. "Jane did invite you to join us?"

He nodded uncertainly. "Are you sure we would not be a burden? I imagine your family will want some time together."

"You are my family," she said softly, and he smiled at her, pulling her hand through his arm.

Elizabeth sensed that someone was watching and looked around uneasily. Finally, she realized it was Lydia staring at her, with a calculating look in her eyes. As she met Elizabeth's gaze, she raised her eyebrows suggestively. Elizabeth quickly looked away, but did not release Darcy's arm.

After a quiet dinner that night, Elizabeth said her goodbyes to Kitty and her husband, who would be returning to Kent in the morning. "It was a beautiful service, Edward," Elizabeth said earnestly. "Your parishioners are fortunate to have such an inspired vicar to guide them."

"Thank you, sister," he said with a pleased blush.

Lydia gave her a lavish embrace. "Remember your promise, sister," she breathed into Elizabeth's ear. Mistaking her sister's shudder, Lydia added harshly, "We cannot all be so fortunate as you in the attentions we receive." Elizabeth pushed her away, none too gently.

They walked out into the cold night, Darcy guiding Elizabeth and then Georgiana into his carriage. Georgiana quite pointedly sat across from Elizabeth, and Darcy climbed in next to her. If her father thought this arrangement improper, he showed no sign as he waved to them.

Inside, Georgiana smiled at her brother fondly, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the seat. He rode to Netherfield with his arm around Elizabeth, who was too tired to talk but too aware of his body pressed against hers to sleep. So they rode in wakeful silence, her head tucked under his chin and arms resting on his chest.

The next two days at Netherfield passed all too quickly for Elizabeth. She and Darcy were nearly inseparable, reading together in the parlor, taking all their meals together, walking the grounds. She had brushed off his protests that she should not still be taking such walks in her condition, and he quickly realized it would be wiser not to protest. They also spent time with Thomas and the Bingley boys, and Elizabeth could not hide her delight at how readily Darcy dropped all reserve to play with the children. Both nights, she slept in his arms, though he discreetly came in after everyone else in the house was abed and left before they stirred.

Charles Bingley eyed his friend with amusement after dinner the second night. "You might as well just go to her now, Fitz," Charles said with a smirk, as he looked at his friend over the rim of his glass. "It's not as though we are all in the dark."

Darcy did not even look startled.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Charles asked softly.

"I am afraid so," Darcy frowned. "Parliament is in session, and I have business to attend to besides. But trust me, I have no desire whatsoever to leave."

"I can imagine," Charles said, smiling at his friend again, and then dropping the smile. "What are you going to do? About Elizabeth, I mean."

"I already asked her to marry me," the older man sighed, "and she wants to wait until after the baby is born. That is certainly very sensible, of course," he said irritably, pushing a lock of hair away from his face. "But for the first time in my life, I do not feel like being in the least bit sensible. Still, you are all telling me I need to wait and so I am waiting."

Charles nodded and decided a change of subjects was perhaps advisable. "Have you heard from General Wellington?"

"Yes," Darcy said distractedly. "Although he writes to Georgiana more often than he writes to me." Charles raised his eyebrows, and Darcy merely sighed. "I have actually acquired a textile factory now, as well, expressly at Wellington's request. It required some improvements, but it should soon be able to produce new tents for the soldiers."

"I would not have thought that tents and tin pots would be the priority items for a war."

"He assures me that the betterment in the conditions for his men will greatly improve morale, and that we will soon see a return on that investment on the battlefield," Darcy commented. "One of his men, a Colonel, has been back and forth to supervise on the General's behalf. We have had him to dinner several times, including out to Pemberley, and he is quite a gentleman. By all accounts, he is a brilliant engineer and logistician, and he certainly has been clever in his designs for the equipment we are producing." Darcy gave a wry smile. "And because this is Wellington we are speaking of, his Colonel is also a younger son of the Duke of Devonshire. So I am finding suddenly that Parliament is most eager to support my manufactures."

They sat in silence for a moment, and Charles finally sighed as he noted his friend's tense shoulders. "You really may go to her, Fitz. It's quite alright." Darcy looked at him gratefully, took a last sip of his brandy, and strode quickly from the room.


	26. Chapter 26

The morning Darcy was to leave for London, Georgiana sought Elizabeth out in the library to say goodbye.

"Oh, but you cannot be leaving already!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I thought you would surely stay a few days!"

"I will accompany my brother to London and send for the girls," she said firmly, as though trying to convince herself. "He will need me to play the part of hostess there," she added. "It must be done."

"Must it?" Elizabeth asked with genuine curiosity.

Georgiana looked at her for a long moment without answering. "My brother," she began slowly, "could have chosen to live an idle life. He was born with sufficient wealth to allow him nothing but languid days and dissolute nights with barely a notch in the family fortune." Elizabeth was taken aback at her friend's words, and even more by her impersonal tone. "Indeed, I daresay that no more or less was expected of him, except perhaps to marry well and breed. He chose to grow the estate and buy new properties. He chose to acquire manufacturing interests. He chose to stand for office. Indeed, there are some denizens of the ton who whisper that he is no true gentleman because he gets his hands dirty and actually manages his own businesses." She shrugged. "I do not believe he cares one whit what they think anymore, but he nonetheless has to move in society in order to succeed in his endeavors. He can do as he likes, so long as he hosts a certain number of dinners, drinks twice weekly at the club, and keeps a box at the opera."

"Catherine tried her best to support him in this, and it was certainly the role she was born to play," Georgiana said flatly . "But she did not play it well or gladly, and it cost him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Elizabeth managed to ask. Georgiana gave her an unsettlingly hard look.

"Because you need to know. This is who he is." She paused, the lines between her eyebrows softening. "Indeed, I believe it was knowing you and truly, losing you, that changed him." She looked remorseful when she saw Elizabeth go pale and still. "Do not mistake me, Lizzy," she said with a gentle urgency. "He is all intensity and hard work and always was. But you made him want to be a better man, one who succeeded on his own merits and not as a result of his inheritance. He wanted to be worthy of you, even if he could not have you. My God, he is even a Whig, if you can believe it."

"You give me far too much credit," Elizabeth said through clenched teeth, her book clattering to the floor as she rose from her chair. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room before Georgiana could utter another word.

Believing that Georgiana would likely try to follow her, Elizabeth fled to the one place she knew their conversation could not continue: the nursery. She paused outside the door, hating the hot feeling in her throat and her shaking hands, especially as she was not entirely sure why she was so upset. Elizabeth knuckled the angry moisture from her eyes and listened to the nurse as she told the three smallest boys a story. The two eldest were at their lessons.

"Mama!" Thomas crowed holding out his arms to her as she walked into the room. "Nurse is telling us the story of King Arthur!"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise at the young woman, who looked modestly at her hands clasped in her lap.

"You know the story?" Elizabeth asked, her interest in this novelty all but displacing her previous disquiet.

"I read it, mum, when I was in school."

"You attended school?"

"Yes, mum. It was a charity school in Colchester."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "That is not the sort of book one would expect to be taught in a charity school." Thomas rustled impatiently on her lap and little Henry began rolling a wheeled toy horse noisily around in circles.

The young woman did not lift her eyes, her face bright red with embarrassment. She offered no explanation.

"How many years of schooling had you at the charity school?" Elizabeth asked gently.

"Until I was 15, mum, and then I came here to work for Mrs. Bingley last year."

"Mama," Thomas said urgently, placing his small hand on her cheek to corral her attention. "Please, we want to hear the story!" His cousins echoed him, begging to know what would happen to the boy king now that he had met the sorcerer, Merlin.

The girl continued to blush, but her eyes twinkled merrily at the boys. Glancing at Elizabeth for permission, she continued her story.

Jane soon found her sister and informed her that the Darcys were about to depart.

"Come, children," Elizabeth said impulsively, "let us bid goodbye to our guests. Nurse may continue her story later."

She had a momentary pang of guilt that she was hiding behind the children, but the boys were already racing each other down the hall.

Darcy, who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, swept Thomas and William both up into his arms when they reached him. Henry tugged at the hem of his coat, shouting "me, too! Me, too!" Darcy laughed at him and kneeled down, squeezing all three boys and growling like a bear.

"Goodbye, Uncle!" Thomas crowed. "When will you come back?" Darcy smiled delightedly at the child.

"Absolutely as soon as I am able, you may be sure of that. Now, you take care of your mother for me, will you?"

Thomas nodded solemnly, clutching a hand in Elizabeth's skirts. "You always ask me that, Uncle," he said.

Darcy rose, saying "That is because I always want you to." His smile dropped as he caught a look at Elizabeth's face, however.

"Boys," she said, "run along outside and say goodbye to Miss Darcy, too." Jane needed no such direction to understand that Elizabeth wanted a moment alone with Darcy.

"What is it?" Darcy asked. "What is wrong?"

Elizabeth looked at him, unsure of what to say. "Georgiana and I had an...unsettling conversation," she finally noted. "I said I would never doubt you again, and I will not, but..."

He did not let her finish her thought, sweeping her instead into a bruising kiss, which left her gasping and shaking.

"I love you, Elizabeth." He rasped in a low voice, his breath hot against her ear. "Nothing matters to me more. Nothing." He held her shoulders tightly and gave her a light shake. "Tell me you understand," he demanded, looking intently into her eyes, "Tell me. Please," he added hastily.

She cupped a hand against his cheek, eyes wet with unshed tears. "Fitzwilliam," she breathed, running a fingertip along his lips. He shuddered lightly and closed his eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him slowly, her lips nimble against his.

He opened his eyes and saw that she was smiling sadly at him.

"What on Earth did she say to you?" he asked, exasperated.

"I believe she only intends to protect us both," Elizabeth responded. "Do not be angry with her."

His eyes flashed, and the thin press of Lord Darcy's lips suggested that he would be very angry, indeed, with his sister.

"Promise me," she said firmly, her own eyes flashing back at him, "that you will not be angry with her." She set her jaw in a hard line, fixing him with a stern look. For a moment, they just glared at each other, and then he softened his expression with a sigh.

"I do not suppose it would do me any good to refuse you."

"It would not," she agreed, rewarding him with a kiss. "When will you be back?"

"The weekend after next, I hope" he responded, his thumb rubbing over her cheek. "It is almost Christmas, you know. I'm afraid it is too late for me to plan anything special, but would you come to Pemberley if I invite your father and your sisters? Are you able to travel?"

She smiled shyly at him. "Yes, of course. That would be lovely, Fitzwilliam. Are you certain, though? I would not wish my family to be a burden to you."

"It is no burden. Besides," he added, with a gleam in his eye, "that will give me an excuse to banish Georgiana back to the country without getting angry with her. She can prepare the house for guests."

"Wicked man!"

"Very," he agreed, holding her tightly to him. He nibbled at her ear and kissed lightly along her neck before stepping away. He lifted her hand and slid his lips along her palm.

"I will convey your farewells to Georgiana," he said with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. He turned suddenly and left the room without looking back, so he would not have to see the bleak look on Elizabeth's face.

The week after he left started with the first light snow of the season, mud freezing along the carriage ruts. Elizabeth stayed indoors, writing letters to Kitty and Lydia to let them know of the invitation to Pemberley. She hesitated before writing to Lydia, but decided she could not very well leave her out. If George were home, that would be another matter, of course. She had written to General Wellington of him, but it would likely take some time to get a response, so he was safely out of the country for the time being.

By Wednesday, her restlessness drove her from the house to visit Longbourn, despite the weather. She reasoned it was time to check in on her father and Mary, and she needed to tell them about Christmas, in any case. The carriage ground slowly through the ice and snow, but otherwise the trip was uneventful.

Her father was delighted to see her. Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek, before he could spirit Thomas away to the library, relieved that he appeared well and in good spirits.

After hanging up her heavy cloak, she went to sit with Mary in the front parlor. "Thank you, Harriet," Mary said to the young girl who soon brought them tea. "You may take a biscuit for yourself before you go, and you may knock on the library door to ask if Thomas would ike to play with the other children."

"Yes, my lady," the little girl said so softly Elizabeth had to strain to hear.

"Now Harriet, we have spoken of this. You are to call me Aunt or Aunt Mary, remember?" The girl dipped her head nervously, eying the plate of biscuits. "Go on now; take your biscuit and run along."

The child snatched a biscuit and ran from the room.

"Is that Lydia's daughter?" Elizabeth asked curiously. "I thought they went back to Bath?"

"Lydia went back, yes," Mary said, sipping her tea. "But she left the children here."

Elizabeth was stunned. "She left them? Whatever for? What was her explanation?"

"She did not give me a reason, just asked me to look after them." Mary shrugged. "I do not mind. It will give me something to do, now that I am no longer caring for Mama, and Papa likes having children in the house. I am finding Harriet to be quite helpful; she appears to be accustomed to doing household chores and looks after her brother and sister quite well."

Elizabeth looked at Mary thoughtfully for a moment. "That is not what I would have expected from a child of Lydia's," Elizabeth commented."

"No," Mary agreed. "And they do not say much, though the boy is quite a mischief maker. Takes after his father, I suppose."

"Where are her other children?" Elizabeth inquired. "I am not even certain how many she has."

"She did not say where they are, and quite frankly, I am not sure how many she has, either."

Elizabeth frowned. "Perhaps we should pay her a visit."

Mary nodded. "Perhaps we should. Will you still be able to travel after Christmas?"

Elizabeth nodded absently. "We have all been invited to Pemberley Hall for Christmas, by the way. Let us talk to her then and see what she says."

By the following week, however, Elizabeth still had no reply from Lydia. Kitty had responded immediately that she, her husband, and her baby daughter would be delighted to join them, if the Darcys were to extend such an invitation, which they did formally soon after.

Georgiana included a long letter with the invitation, which Elizabeth set aside to read later. She was not sure she wanted to know what Georgiana had to say to her.

As Jane came into the library, Elizabeth held out the card. "The invitation to Christmas at Pemberley," she said.

"How lovely!" Jane exclaimed at the fine calligraphy. "That is most kind of them," she added. "Though I rather think the rest of us are just the excuse to get you to Pemberley."

"I will not be baited," Elizabeth said loftily at her sister's laughter.

"Sister," Elizabeth said, remembering a disturbance she had heard the night before, "I could have sworn I heard a carriage arrive in the middle of the night last night. Is anything amiss?"

Jane looked at her evenly. "Perhaps you dreamed it, Lizzy."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the somewhat evasive response. That was not like Jane. "I do not think so," she responded, and then grimaced, passing her hand over her abdomen. "I am afraid I do not sleep well right now. It is difficult to get comfortable, and the baby seems to delight in kicking me whenever I try to lie down."

Jane smiled. "But you otherwise feel well? I never slept much in the last months, either."

She recognized that her sister was changing the subject, but let the matter drop. She clearly did not wish to discuss their midnight visitor, whoever it was.

Elizabeth found out for herself who it was a few nights later. An aching back kept her awake, so she decided to finally read Georgiana's letter. It was, as she expected, an abject apology. Georgiana begged her friend's forgiveness, but also asserted that she meant well. She offered no explanation, though, other than a promise that she would explain herself further when she saw Elizabeth at Christmas, if Elizabeth so desired. The rest of the letter described Georgiana's plans for their holiday.

Feeling vexed, Elizabeth donned a dressing gown and descended to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She was surprised to see someone else was awake, the glow of candles emanating from the dining room.

She walked quietly into the room, only to see an unfamiliar blond woman seated at the table, with her back to the door. She looked at the stranger in confusion and then gasped as she realized who it was: Lady Caroline "Charlotte" Douglas, who turned her head when she heard Elizabeth's gasp.

Elizabeth's surprise at seeing Lady Douglas was nothing compared to the shock she received when she saw the face of her nemesis. Lady Douglas had two black eyes, and her nose appeared to be broken. Her bottom lip was split. She turned away from Elizabeth quickly.

"You may as well come in," she said. "Or at least have the grace to close your mouth and stop staring."

"Caroline...I mean Charlotte... Lady Douglas. What happened? Are you all right?"

"Well obviously, I am not all right," she snapped sharply, and then sighed tiredly. "And just call me Caroline."

Elizabeth stood awkwardly on the threshold, unsure of what to say. "I could not sleep," she finally blurted out. "I thought a cup of tea might help."

Caroline gestured wearily toward the kitchen, where a pot of water was kept warm on the stove. "Be my guest."

Elizabeth moved about the kitchen, preparing the water and filling a small pot with tea. She found some bread left from dinner and several slices of cheese and put them on a plate, along with apples from the winter barrel.

Elizabeth had not expected Caroline to still be there by the time the tea was ready, but she did not appear to have moved.

"I thought you might be hungry," Elizabeth said, pouring Caroline and herself a cup of tea. Caroline looked at her disdainfully, but she took the tea and eventually cut herself a piece of cheese.

"When did you arrive?" Elizabeth finally asked.

"Three nights ago," Caroline answered. Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. There had been a late night arrival, after all, Elizabeth thought.

"I have been keeping to my room," she commented. "The only person permitted to see me, other than Charles and your sister, has been the doctor. I am tired of staring at the same four walls, however, and I thought there was little danger of encountering anyone at this time of the night," she noted accusingly.

They both sipped at their tea for a few moments before Elizabeth finally could no longer restrain her curiosity. "What happened?"

Caroline looked at her without expression. "What makes you think it is any business of yours?"

"I suppose it is not."

"What do you think happened, silly woman?" Caroline said bitterly. "I was beaten within an inch of my life."

"But who would do such a thing?" Elizabeth cried.

"Who do you think?" Caroline retorted sharply. "My dear husband, of course," she spat the word husband out with disgust.

Elizabeth stared at her aghast. Caroline gave a short, sharp laugh.

"Yes, sweet little Lizzy, such things do happen. Sir John does as he will with his property, as he so frequently reminds me."

"He has no right..." Elizabeth began.

"He has every right. Are you really so naive?"

Elizabeth looked at her in silence for a few minutes.

"I am so sorry, Caroline."

"Oh, please. Spare me your pity. I am sure nothing makes you happier than to see me humiliated and degraded."

"That is not true," Elizabeth said firmly. "I would never wish such grief on anyone."

"No, of course you would not. Because you are an angel and your life is perfect. Rich, handsome men just fall at your feet, begging to know what they can do to make you happy, don't they? You have probably never known a day of grief in your life."

Their eyes met then, Elizabeth's full of raw emotion. Caroline at least had the grace to look down at her teacup with a muttered "Sorry."

The two women sat in silence for some time. Finally, Caroline cleared her throat and spoke softly.

"I knew Richard as a friend of Charles, back before you met him. He was always kind to me. That was not as important to me then, but I remember him."

There was a long silence again.

"How did he die?"

Elizabeth told her, sparing her none of the details. Caroline nodded, managing to convey in the nod an unsentimental comprehension, which was, oddly more comforting than tears often were.

The quiet overtook them again, this time more companionable than uncomfortable.

"We are all going to Pemberley for Christmas," Elizabeth ventured. "You should come with us."

Caroline looked at her for a long time.

"I think not."

"What will you do then? Stay here all alone?"

Caroline snorted. "Of course not. I shall go home."

"But you cannot!" Elizabeth cried. "From the look of it, he nearly killed you! You must come with us, if only for your own safety." When Caroline did not respond, Elizabeth continued. "I am not so naive, Caroline, that I do not know that women sometimes live apart from their husbands or even divorce in such circumstances."

Caroline shook her head wearily. "I am afraid that is not how it works in my world, Elizabeth. Sir John has many friends and great resources, and my own reputation is...less than polished." She waved her hand dismissively. "I usually go home once the bruises fade, for he does not like to see me marked. There is no help for it this time as he will want me there for Christmas." She stood up and pulled her dressing gown around her. "In any case, it is not as bad as it looks." She strode with self-conscious grace to the doorway, but her slow movements also suggested injuries less visible to the eye than the ones on her face.

She paused in the doorway. "Allow me to give you a little advice. If I had a man like Fitzwilliam Darcy who wanted me," she said, looking back at Elizabeth, "I would go to him and never leave."

"It is not that simple, Caroline, and you know it better than most. It does not take much to ruin a reputation."

"No, it does not, and the truth is that it will be ruined or raised regardless of your own actions. You are a bigger fool than I thought if you sacrifice one moment of comfort with a man like that over fears of what anyone else thinks. You will have to learn to be far more ruthless if you are to be his lover."

"We intend to marry," Elizabeth said indignantly.

Caroline sneered. "It is all the same. He will use you until he is tired of you, either way, and then he will find other ways to amuse himself."

She lowered her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. "But if he wants you that much right now, whatever inanities the ladies of the Ton might titter behind their fans should not matter to you in the slightest."

Elizabeth watched her walk out, eyes wide.

"Oh, one more thing," she said, from the shadows in the hallway. "Do not think this means we are now friends."

Elizabeth did not see Caroline again, and was not even sure when she left, only that she was gone. She knew that their paths would surely cross again, though. Despite Caroline's parting words to her, Elizabeth wondered if they would meet at the next crossroads as allies or adversaries. Or perhaps neither, Elizabeth thought wryly.


End file.
